Monday, 22 December 2008
“Tortured feet break away from threadbare shoes”
- that’s all.
Yellow-parched skin, now brushing against the wind.
Hard-lined mouths which put lives into cruel focus -
Frustrated by answers, and unexpected new managers.
Watery eyes, wistful through the entirety of generation Y -
Find hope to relate again, drawing out vitality through sockets of gold,
Creative minds and legs which bend and reach and go.
Babies stand their personalities up-right, and shine.
Mother’s wisdom cares for them, without strain.
Shout it out: “A family is well again!”
Aching remembered, we cry “Worth it, all worth it!”
Music climbing, broad sounds filling out our clothes,
Activity unhindered, progress never unmade
- people purposed, concentrating, thinking, relaxing;
Rushing of air, as solid trees walk towards one another
- as if, at first.
Hopes that return, from the crown laden down.