“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” Carl Sandburg


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

day 12. more/Our Lost Jungle

Grandson
 
Pushing the swing till my arms ache
and still he begs for more.
Reading till my throat is dry
and yet he wants just one more.
Twirling round and round-I’m dizzy-
please, again, just once more.
And  his bubbly laughter
makes my heart soar.
His great delight is not a bore,
for I adore the fun we have
knowing one day we’ll not, anymore,
have that kind of fun.

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