Captured
My son has come into a tired world,
his mind sharp and fertile,
making each stone a new thing,
gifting the pebble that glints
in the afternoon light
with a secret geometry,
as intensely real as the joy
of a passing bird,
or a stranger’s wish for home.
It's easy to be captured
by the image of your child
watching his reflection in a spoon,
by the way he steals your kindness
with a devilish smile,
and is no one's angel but your own.
- © Jason Beale 2022
Jason Beale is a Melbourne writer.
1 comment:
Lovely poem. Love the image of the stone on the first line.
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