Children From 5-12 Are still Awake to Their Psychic Mind


It’s obviously natural to our DNA.

Prose; Gray Day


gray day.jpg

The sky is much grayer lack of light and still prayer.

Tree bark darker wet mud dragged upstairs.

No grayer will be in that Michigan sky, mournful woes sad goodbyes.

Sad goodbyes to the bright sun that shocks eyes in May,

It appears a huge orb high in the sky.

We say “What’s that big orange disc by day?”

Who hides behind clouds that we hate.

Oh please dear sun, we beg for your warmth,

We can’t take one more grate of this fate.

My son says, “I don’t know what is better, gray sky or the snow?”,

His smug face looks at me with a smirk.

He’s eighteen and he’s jibbing his mother so low

But he’s serious, he prefers this to hurt,

The hurt of the sun burning down on his face shining wonderful light in his eyes

He was born in a snowbank at the end of this month

Eighteen short years as I rank.

I’ll forgive him this time as there won’t be much more

Of his smart-alec ways to imbibe

He’s going away, out my front door

And that’s when my heart may just die.

Jan. 30, 2017

 

 

Prose; My Only Child Turns Eighteen Today


He went from twenty inches long to 70 inches long.  Something or someone pulled him into this big, strapping, broad-shouldered, sweet, brilliant man.

Well, legally he’s a man, but now he needs to launch out into this crazy mess of humans bumping around, unaware of how their thoughts and feelings create their life.  He is a calm, kind soul so he won’t be skinning anyone alive, but he does tend to be honest in a very charitable manner so most people won’t get off scot-free from his observations.

ALEX

The day of your birth, a crisp, cold, crystal day

In my memory, eighteen years ago holds sway

Who do I value most of all?

It’s you my son so big and tall

May your life have adventures that take your breath

May you jump in feet first, unafraid of death

I know that’s odd for a mother to say

But my son has seen death like it’s yesterday

His father is gone, a year ago now

He loved our son dearly at his final bow

I’ve held the ship level as best I can

Mostly alone with some helping hand

The men do die, often you know

The woman on her own in the ice and snow

Remember that sometimes people need help

A hand or two is all when they yelp

Just as we have done in these last two years

Keep your friends close as you move through the tears

But there’s fun to be had, plenty of that

As you move around life from the last place you sat

Run the race strong, keep your head up son

And be a good friend ’til your Earth life is done.