A poignant poem about a father and his child |
Walking along the oceans sand, in the crisp evening air He happened upon a sand castle built by a child’s, tiny hand It's delicate, virginal beauty, a short time it would last Much too soon the waves of the sea would wash it to a distant past Those little footprints, ingrained on some land Where a sweet, small child Had carefully planned A beautiful, fragile castle in sand He was painting a picture in his mind of those little hands and feet. The nocturne of a symphony with children directing the beat The rolling motions of the sea kept a rhythmic roar with the waves They rolled to the shore in syncopated lyrics making wet, sandy graves His hope he carried in his heart As he walked quietly along the sea He wanted to make everything right But he was doubting his ability A silent cantata of the discordant roar of time, Was singing a haunting melody in voice A-cappella Chanting audible chords of the memories in his mind His thoughts went back to the little child, building a dream carved in the sand, A child who was thoughtfully shaping a future on land As he sat on the shore in pensive thought His own child came to mind His sweet little girl, not a care in her world Singing her innocent, happy rhymes He’d come home from work, needing time to unwind Too busy and tired to give his child enough of his time She learned to walk and talk all while he was gone While her mommy taught her all those cute, little songs "Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffett Eating her curds and whey The little spider that sat down beside her Until she shooed him away" His wife, the apple of his eye, a woman who stood by his side He wrote her name inside his heart, always wanted her as his bride They fell in love, prayed for a sweet, little child to share all their love. The Lord in Heaven heard their prayers and sent them a little girl from above His memories led him back to home Knowing he made those vows without end Finally knowing what he must do.. He’d take his wife and child by their hands..... To make lovely, delicate castles in sand ************************************************************************************************* Kahlil Gibran ~ "You are the bows, from which your children as living arrows are sent forth". |