Little girl...
Why do you stand there,
Tears glistening?
Perhaps you've glimpsed
How cruel life can be.
They thought you strong...
They thought you able.
But they never thought
That you could cry.
They've heard you sing,
And scream, and laugh...
Yet no living ears
Have heard your sobs.
They saw you
When you stuck your hands
In that cookie jar,
Craving for forbidden food.
They saw you
Pulling out those pranks.
But they never saw you,
Like I do:
An apparition changing hue.
They were too busy
Fighting, talking, walking on...
Working with matters of consequence
Because they're all grown up.
And it's too late
For them to see...
Or understand.
Read your heart they never will.
So smile...
My bonny little girl.
Your time will come.
You will soon be
Advanced, in years... in knowledge,
Possessed with a weathered wisdom.
Hold my hand now,
One last time.
As I turn away from you,
From the aged, tarnished mirror...
And say goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Read my Eyes
Poetry“The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, and tells a tale it never feels; deceit the guilty lips impart, and hush the mandates of the heart; but soul’s interpreters, the eyes, spurn such restraint and scorn disguise.” (Lord Byron) Probe mine. Tell...
