where blue skies framed a joyful sun
that
of small bodies eager for the living
when laughter tinkled
in an anthem of spontaneous expression.
We
that binds us firmly to that place
years pass as candles snuffed by the breeze
clouds moving across the face of the sun;
birthdays part of the mystery of living
notched on door frames
But would there be excitement at that growth
or a frown
if we saw in advance the truth about
and understood more about time and place
would we dance so freely in the sun
if we knew how fleeting was the breeze.
For each life stage passes with the breeze
that feathers every seasons' growth
from winter darkness to summer sun
a metaphor for all expression
as we move to each new place
And as we celebrate the living
carried forth on endless breeze
that mark the milestones of our growth
the changing vista of expression
beneath the guard of a watchful sun.
For
we
our childhood is
of the changing direction of the breeze
across the transience of place.
Now
each age of growth essential to living
I pass by on the breeze, content in expression.
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For some reason I'm yet to fathom I'm unable to reply to comments left by others so thank you for dropping by and taking the time to read and comment. Merlene