What are seasons but children's soft dreams, and <br />Sunrise, their opening eyes? <br />Seeing at a glance <br />The days and years open...waiting, <br />Fringed with softness, or <br />Laced with abandon... <br /> <br />Like playing dress-up in the attic <br />With Aunt Dorothy's hat and gloves... <br />Not remembering the season <br />She died in childbirth... <br />And yet, <br />Ready to hear the story and pass it <br />Beyond their years... <br />To other ages. <br /> <br />Like playing with 'Bunny' in a toy crib, <br />Feeding her, patting, hugging... <br />Not yet realizing it is their son or <br />Daughter's crib...in a Time they already <br />Know of...deep inside. <br />Dreaming in waking. <br />In reality. <br />In dreams. <br /> <br />Dress-up and Bunny...hazy remembered <br />Pieces and bits... <br />Of kindness, hardness. <br />Cruelty, sympathy. <br />Love... <br />Known before, after...beyond. <br /> <br />What are seasons but children's soft dreams... <br />And sunrise, their opening eyes? <br />Seeing at a glance... <br />The days. <br />The moments.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/children-s-eyes-children-s-toys/
