Up ahead scampering, newly-begged coins held trophy-like aloft flight paths locked into their destination - an emporium of confectionary treasure - long minutes considering rival treats of chocolate, ice-cream, penny sweets brief moments of envious rivalry before an honourable trade is reached Coins obsolete, crisp notes now handed over with mock-begrudgery, for pampering in hairdresser and beauty parlour long hours appraising graduation gowns to grace the arms of lost young brutes mortified in ludicrous outmoded hired suits but pride scarlet in their cheeks as they display their radiant prize. They've grown. We have not lost them, only loaned them to the world and bask in their reflected glow. We tried to give them all we never had, yet protect them, keep them happy and secure. As they walk the high-wire of life's circus we are their safety-net. And should they make a life that grants them blessings only half what we have known, our work is done, their happiness assured. They've grown. P.J. Murphy Copyright ©2003 P.J. Murphy
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Grown
Labels:
P.J. Murphy poems,
poem Grown,
Poetry by PJ Murphy
Location:
Wexford, Ireland
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