On Wearing Glasses

Consolation

Seven, devastated, hurt to the core
when the White Coat said "glasses for her."
Ridicule, difficult schooldays ahead
Shortsighted but foresight quite clear.
Seven years old and crestfallen, bad news:
"Soon be the bearer of spectacles."
"But some GOOD news ahead," the Wise One beamed
A glimmer, but dubious and skeptical.
"You MIGHT not need them-" the Doctor paused
"-any more by the time you turn forty."
A door, briefly open, now slammed with a thud
All hope was swept right out to sea.
Seven years old and the fortieth year
Too far to behold, no concern.
What silver lining with half a life spent?
Not a shred that I could discern.

-TheElementary