deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Joy in New Life
I can't face them for long,
Even though I yearn for one.
A little person of my very own.
If I gaze into the eyes of wonder,
I will find my dreams before me.
In my hands a choice,
To grow up to soon
Or to join but briefly
In the mind of a child.
I cannot interact with them,
For shame, I find my childish joy
A tad embarrassing with the world on watch.
A tad alarming how quickly I digress
Into a world unlike mine.
However, they are all around me.
Like a field of flowers,
Each little petal below me
But brighter, lighter,
More hopeful and resilient.
That I find myself in rhythm with their laughs,
In fear of the tears.
Should they wilt to long, the world would die.
Should I misstep...
The flowers could change to thorns.
What is life without risk?
I will cradle them close to me,
Never will they not know love.
A kiss, a hug,
The freedom to dream and speak,
To ever wonder.
I cannot fear what I don't know.
I can only try, and try,
And impart my grown-up knowledge
Onto them.
Patience is an art,
One I have perfected for this task alone,
So long ago in a room of dolls,
When a child was fake and calm.
For now I can partake from the sides,
In the wondering eyes of a child.
Until I bravely cross over my own childhood,
And carry something soft and delicate,
So important within myself-
My world will only know the wonder they show me.
And I will not care for the world.
Even though I yearn for one.
A little person of my very own.
If I gaze into the eyes of wonder,
I will find my dreams before me.
In my hands a choice,
To grow up to soon
Or to join but briefly
In the mind of a child.
I cannot interact with them,
For shame, I find my childish joy
A tad embarrassing with the world on watch.
A tad alarming how quickly I digress
Into a world unlike mine.
However, they are all around me.
Like a field of flowers,
Each little petal below me
But brighter, lighter,
More hopeful and resilient.
That I find myself in rhythm with their laughs,
In fear of the tears.
Should they wilt to long, the world would die.
Should I misstep...
The flowers could change to thorns.
What is life without risk?
I will cradle them close to me,
Never will they not know love.
A kiss, a hug,
The freedom to dream and speak,
To ever wonder.
I cannot fear what I don't know.
I can only try, and try,
And impart my grown-up knowledge
Onto them.
Patience is an art,
One I have perfected for this task alone,
So long ago in a room of dolls,
When a child was fake and calm.
For now I can partake from the sides,
In the wondering eyes of a child.
Until I bravely cross over my own childhood,
And carry something soft and delicate,
So important within myself-
My world will only know the wonder they show me.
And I will not care for the world.
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