The Highchair

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See the photo . . . Need we say more?

The Highchair
-by Steve Chapman

Who is that little fellow
With ketchup on his nose
Spaghetti in his hair
And a Kodak pose?

Who's sitting in that highchair
Keeping rhythm with a spoon?
Who's got your full attention
And you're crazy as a loon?

Well, he might be the doctor
Who finally finds the cure;
Or the one who leads schools back into prayer;
Or the one who'll be your friend
When you're old and all alone;
You don't know who's sitting in that highchair.

Who is that little lady,
Charming as a lamb,
Painting like an artist
With that pudding in her hands?

Who's sitting in that highchair
With her supper on the floor?
Who's got you saying things
Like "I can't take it anymore"?

She might be the first lady
To fly beyond the moon;
Or the one who changes history with her prayers;
Or she might be there with you
When you're old and all alone;
You don't know who's sitting in that highchair.

Step back, take a look;
Take a picture of this moment in your mind;
That dirty face, in heaven's book
Is where the future treasures always seem to hide.

He might be the doctor, who finally finds the cure;
Or she might change history with her prayers;
Or they may be there with you
When you're old and alone;
You don't know who's sitting in that highchair.