The child

It was just by chance,
or rather, it was both unexpected
and not, when I saw the little boy
hovering just behind my face,
staring at the world with the same reliance
I could just barely remember.

The boy, tainted by skin
that no longer stretch and yawn,
nor feed the sun with tributes
of faith and final death's rebuttal.

He stood there gazing at the world
like nothing had happened
in all these years,
as if there never had been a between
from where he stood and where I was.

The child walks with me,
trapped in unforgiving cells
and a merciful, fading memory.




Poetry by Bob
Read 674 times
Written on 2008-02-02 at 01:49

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Kathy Lockhart
how beautifully your explained the inner child. The one we want to know, to care for, to protect. This was touching to me.
2008-02-04


David L Wright
An interesting take on the child within. It's diapers at birth and again just before we die and so goes the circle of life. Good write.
Happy trails.
2008-02-02