Rivers ripe with mothers milk, the veins of her great design splice for the creatures she bares.
A child's face, fresh, untouched by man's crooked scheme
A gaze that no power made can remove
A gaze of wonder
Of intrigue
Of unspoiled thoughts
Soon
Soon those thoughts will fade with made demands and false desires
Will he ever again dawn this face?
The face I had years and years ago
The face I now only remember when I catch it on my own child
In silent observance of innocence, not remembering its taste and witnessing a distant memory wash back out into the depths of lost ideas
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Comments2
WELCOME "J" ~ and thanks for a well penned and philosophical first poem. I was breast fed and my Mum tells me I always made a meal of it ! The innocence in the face of a child is fleeting and soon replaced by the care lines of life. I don't have any kids (yet) but when i do I hope to glimpse my lost innocence in the trust in their eyes. Yours BRIAN. lease check my poem DECISIONS ~ Thanks B
Thank you for your comment and kind words Brian! I will make sure to check out your work and leave a comment as well.
Your tribute to and description of innocence is so tender, yet profound. Every line was nourishing. Thanks for sharing.
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