poems

The Language of Children

trampontrampoline

The smiles are the same everywhere.

When you watch me and my daughter.

Tilted heads with tight lips as though you’re hiding laughter.

 

A close bond,

compassionate connections.

something we’re all looking after.

 

I see you as you watch us.

I feel your warm eyes within.

The chemistry pronounces something…….

……something which makes us kin.

 

Language is no barrier.

It matters not Italian or Pole.

There’s magic in a high five which makes all people whole.

 

There’s innocence in knowing

“I’m nearly 4 today!”

Everyone remembers,

wishing older every day.

 

Returning home from work.

A limp dandelion on the side.

“I got you a flower Daddy!”

She sparkles – eyes open wide!

 

I smile with cosmic flawlessness.

My ocean of pride is full.

It’s then they fail to pay me and I watch her eyes turn dull.

 

The shades of green turn softer.

Delicate meadows, now replaced with a simple kind of hopelessness.

A tear down her face.

 

She now doesn’t understand why the Theatre is off bounds.

Why she cannot dance with Elsa to the tune of Disneyland.

 

The language of children.

“I want to laugh and play”

Tainted by our adult world

which turns its face away.

 

I’m dissappointed in the aftermath.

But never in my girl.

She’s a special kind of perfect in a bitter, sour world.

 

Copyright G.P Williamson 2017

 

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