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Accessible * Useful * Enjoyable Poetry |
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Jan Veile |
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Water child |
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The spring of innocence glistens in your hair, my touch shares the warm fervor of your birth, a humid fullness that washes the storm away as wet fingers search meaning in matted silk.
Joy touches my face in a cloud of soapy hands, hiding old eyes that see the world in silhouette. I embrace the splash of play, bent with toweled arms covering you as if raising good shelter.
Your voice fountains upward, scattering rain softening the dry edges of age, soothing balm for my tight wounds, wet kisses make it easier. Smudged, sticky and adored.
After the kisses, your drowsy head rests. I snuggle in, smelling the green apple breath listening for the undercurrents in your sleep of free running, underground streams.
Someday, old with barren needs, I wish you a water child, a legacy of amused, clear pool eyes and agitated feet that stomps into puddles, sprays your withered face and smiles at your dry seriousness.
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Poet Reads Poem |