Photograph

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Written October 10, 2010
A sunlit playground, the tiny forms clad
in brown and white, their shrieks of joy;
'njoying a free moment
The sounds float up to my window, a welcome distraction
To the endless monotony within

The windowsill forming a natural frame
Freezing the moment in the passage of time
As though by some heavenly camera

Since the beginnings of man, a scene oft repeated
Children playing, poets writing
Penning their feelings, on teh children playing

As yet a subject forever untiring
Undrying in its well of emotions and precociousness
The efforts to recapture an innocence
Lost by the writer aeons ago

Every generation must have
A poet and a poem on the Joy of Youth
The only change in this bookmark scene of life
Or it so seemeth to me-

As time passes, the children, and the shouts-
Remain the same...
But the poets..

Hell! They grow younger every time!!!!

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