Children – No Talent For Certainty

Paperboy

The only quietude he’d ever known
Was throwing papers in the morning dark;
As there, in dawning silence he, alone,
Would pedal past the edges of the park.
Each paper that he’d throw would, in an arc,
Land gracefully upon a greening lawn.
The contrast to his home life was so stark,
Where all was chaos: angry, woebegone –
A home that hatred set its face upon;
But which he could escape when came the dawn

A Child Drawing

There’s no one more alive, absorbed –
At least, that’s known to me –
As when a child is drawing;
Pure creativity

Their line and color choices
Are not convention’s slave:
They draw because they want to
And don’t have to behave

Haute Decor

The flawless decor of the rich
Can keep their sleeping kids in style;
But all of that won’t give kids warmth
Or make the moments worth the while

That they might spend with parents who
Spend all their lives on margin’s call:
While love is riches, strange to say
Mere riches are not love
At all

point of admission

she said
she never knew true love
until she had a child

and i felt hurt
as men will tend to do

to know
that we're extrinsic
to a woman's love
at last reckoning

yet i had learned
the lessons i was taught
as a child --

that men are expendable
in fire
in flood
in war

it is our job to die
so the greater work
can go on
without us

if needs make so

and that women will
transfer 
the full expression
of their love

always

to the smallest person
in the room

and they'll call you

when they're ready

for another one


maybe