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The pulse of freedom

There is a sight I hold dear. A misty morning, a grey veil, green hills in the background, lush and abundant. On the fore, at about 100 feet...

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Catching fireflies

Carefree childhood
Inhibited by
Crutches,
Comforted
By frail shoulders
Of his
Mother,
Her skeletal frame,
Covered by papery skin,
Wrinkled folds
Speaking vividly
Of
The asperity,
Clearly not amused
By the catchy smiles
Of her son,
Speculative,
Perhaps deliberating
Their next square meal,
Considering
Yet another
Clinical tour,
The little child
Oblivious
To her
Concerns,
Looking out
At the
Regular chaos,
Commotion
With
Insatiable curiosity.
Also,
Caught a glimpse of
Carefree childhood
Caressing
The green
Summer grass
With his tiny feet,
Chasing fireflies,
Catching them
In a mason-jar.
The somber sober
Summer night
Made bright
By delighted
Cackles
Of puerility.



4 comments:

  1. Hello, Ruby,
    A fellow poet here. I appreciate all the C words tucked in to the lines of thought. I'll be back to visit.

    Suzi's Ice Box Art!
    Stormy's Sidekick
    Blogging from A to Z April Challenge

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Suz for dropping by and leaving such kind words

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  2. Clever and sweet. I'm enjoying your poetry!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Millie. I am enjoying your visits and kind words

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.