At ease among the young ones
Their eyes display no pretense
Therein I find a rest
In their honesty of heart
Why do grown-ups find it hard
To say the words I'm sorry
Why is it viewed as weak
Why does it offend
Words have finite limits
Mere reflections of the deep
Ocean's depth is fathomless
The origin of our soul
Please be gentle
I promise you the same
If ever my tide is rough
I pray you, let me know
Before you set your sail
april 29, 2oo8
It is obvious I am neglectful of this blog. I do want to update it, along with my neglected archive over at Poetry Pages (PPs). And the thousand other things I want to do. I hope there is an eternity. I don't think I'd ever get bored!
My last entry in my Poetry Pages archive is dated March, 2009. I have written some poems since then but haven't recorded them into my archive.
So today, April 24, 2010, I decided to peek back (via my PPs archive) into the month of April, 2008, to see what I had written then. I picked "Be Gentle with the Tide," obviously.
I enjoy young children, hanging out with toddlers. I like them; they like me. We giggle. We sing. We converse. We play. We get along so very well.
Their eyes, their eyes. So very deep, so very tender, so very innocent.
There is nothing to prove between us, other than to simply be.
And when we hurt the feelings of the other, we say, "I'm sorry."
I wish it were the same more often in the world of big people.
Sometimes the eyes convey more than the words.
Eyes. Depth. A peek into the ocean of soul where the tide ebbs and flows. From where life begins and ends. The tide.