Saturday, October 27, 2012


We weather continuous blows
becoming more calloused each day
until our indifference shows
like scars that a pro would display
so all we can see are the foes
but not the welcoming way
the child within us knows--

and as the deadening grows
we forfeit our faithful resolve
and wallow in worsening woes
refusing to ever involve
ourselves, or remotely suppose
that love makes a person evolve,
but the child within us knows--

so don't let the dungeon doors close
and loosen that untainted heart
forsake your implacable pose
forgiveness is truly an art,
a stanza of the sweetest prose
that ever could impart
what the child within us knows.

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