Sunday, April 24, 2011

Meeting The Baby

It is easy to believe
Just a few months back
You were an old man
Mind wandering
Gumming your pap
Peeing your diaper
Whoever wiped your hardrive
Should have scrubbed it better
Because here you are
Doing it all again
Babies are not clean slates
I see echoes of who you were
In who you are becoming
As for me, looking at you
The color of your hair shooting like fire from your head
I realize
My printer has run low
On toner, and white has crept
Around my temples and spotted my crowned
I am happy
To meet you and smell and touch
That aura of immortal youth you have
Of innocence that surrounds you
But not kindness, for that is ours
What you throw back at us daily
I wish you were part of me
As I wish part of me had made you
But I am happy to be part of the small world
That prepares you for the larger world
For as long as I can
Until I am there again
Moving from tomb to womb

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