wrapped up tightly and placed in my arms
determined, confident, strong,
only a few minutes old and there she was...
shouting, reciting my list of complaints,
my lack of new dresses, my lack of new friends,
I was not aware she was even listening
from the back carseat.
She calmed down after she had thrown the stone
that hit me on the head; she had my attention at last.
I am getting a little better at not covering my ears
from the Child who throws Idealism.
Feel for our salvation,
the wonder of the first few moments
before we were separate.
9 comments:
Nice poetry about idealism. This is really true even in real life. i hope I don't come to the point where someone has to throw stones at me for me to be able to hear them.
wonderful!
Friday's Child,
Teenagers are good for the soul.
J. Andrew,
Thank you, veteran.
Art Puppy 94,
Yes, that is my baby girl.
Great work!
I really enjoyed this. I hope you share more of your poetry with us.
Thanks Stephen!
I will, Barbara.
You have got me hoping to hear some of your poetry. It is National Poetry Month, you know.
National poetry month? I thhoughit was adopt an ilegal alien month... har har
word verification wants xlznvpyu
this is so not fair!
Come on, David, join the haiku party.
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