Monday, October 31, 2011

Crash


Driving
Son
What are the
Chances
Your child’s
Eyes
Could see,
Could see what
My old man’s eyes
Cannot
A moon that races
Beside our speeding
Chariot
Never dropping
Back
Does it toy
With us?
“Bang,” you say
As the silver ball
Throws itself
Crashing
Into still dark trees
To once again,
To your delight,
Be reborn
And leap forth
From forest’s depths
Yes, I think,
The silver eye
Does toy
With us
Springing forth
Lively
To shock
From your lips
Joyous
Laughter
To see that
Your bright friend
Still watches
Over, and
Follows
You


Ken Goree


One of my most treasured memories of my beautiful, beautiful, boy.

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