Who am I? No one, A dreamer with unfulfilled Dreams, bursting the seams.
Tears threaten to throw, All the plans, carefully made, Into fading shade.
I think I write But sometimes it seems The words write me, Searching out my heart, soul, Tearing me to shreds, making whole. Words are precious existence, Love distilled for meaning – Making clear the gleaning Of was, is, will be In almost captured dreams; Streams laden with hope – Wild flames catching time Setting sentences to rhyme, Only tell, what is the line, Am I it, or is it mine?
The children, simple, Underfoot teaching lessons Of brave innocence; Love their flashing sword, bright shield, Determination – armor. The children bestow Gifts wherever they go, Fond smiles bubble up Filling hearts like coffee cups, Bringing laughter to sad eyes. The children desire Understanding of all things, Learning from old souls Every blessing and conflict, Each harsh word and compliment. The children reveal Past secrets, future dreams, things Unknown and unseen, They dabble – eternally Calling out for kindness, care. The children face time With a will toward conquering Those troubles they must – Choosing courage enough to Produce the needs, become who The children can be When raised with sensitivity, Shining in history Free to grow because there Are miles to go, LOVE to show.