Mr Adam was not one to be trifled with.

His anger was fast, his fist faster.

His children feared him;

They cowered into their rooms at the sight of him.

They talked in whispers;

He hated noise.

They trembled when he called them

And ran to do his biddings without excuse.

They had contempt mixed with respect for their mother.

She never stood up for them for the sake of “peace”.

They didn’t really blame her for not standing up for them

 They knew it would only aggravate Mr. Adam.

They were kids so they kept hoping.

Then came along a last child, smith.

He did not understand.

He couldn’t understand any of it.

Could not understand the nervous movements

whenever Mr. Adam appeared.

He couldn’t understand the silence ,

He could not understand why people feared his father.

The innocence of childhood shielded him.

So he sang at the top of his voice,

He took his time whenever Mr. Adam sent him.

He even gave his opinion without being asked.

The other children waited with trepidation

For Mr. Adam’s wrath to fall on Smith.

Looking at his face, they knew they didn’t have long to wait.

Trying to explain to Smith was futile as he couldn’t understand.

So they hung around, waiting to console him.