"Out of the mouths of babes..." as the saying goes.  The following poem was inspired by my 3 year old grandson who, when looking at the quarter moon hanging brightly, said something that could come only from the innocence of children.

Perspective

(for Luke)

 

The last of the light - long faded

- reflected a crescent sky,

when a small voice spoke

that the moon was broke,

and my soul - long lost years jaded

- glimpsed hope in my grandson's why.

 

6/16 - 6/18/2013