They never stop asking me
"What will you be?--
A doctor, a dancer,
A diver at sea?"
They never stop bugging me:
"What will you be?"
As if they expect me to
Stop being me.
When I grow up I'm going to be a Sneeze,
And sprinkle Germs on all my Enemies.
When I grow up I'm going to be a Toad,
And dump on Silly Questions in the road.
When I grow up, I'm going to be a Child.
I'll Play the whole darn day and drive them Wild.
Dennis Lee
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-will-you-be/
