I watch the little child
Place her tiniest finger
Trustingly, in the mother's hand
And walk by, along with her.
I notice the woman lean,
Sway, imperceptibly, toward
The man walking beside her,
As they walk slowly, forward.
I see the old woman put,
On her son's shoulder, a hand like
A nervy, wrinkled, brown wire,
Racing past me on their bike.
Trust - sheer, immense trust,
Something so elusive, sadly.
I wish - I really wish; But I know -
It's for everyone, but not for me.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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