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August 19, 2009 / Writing

A New Poem

The Children of Thayer Street

Bright confused
and
with brash energy;
eyes of fire and terror.

Young. Younger every year.

A rustle in your heart,
a whisper of lost
                           lostness.
These children of your middle years
as they smile wide and smoke and wear
self-involvement like a superhero cape
slashing red and blue
in the sunrise of their grown up pose.

You hate them just a little
and love them in a way they will never understand
until they are middle-yeared and looking
back
at the young. Younger every year.

As the semester begins, they swell your heart,
taking Thayer Street as their own.

On this day..

  • SitRep on New Mexico - 2008

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One comment

  1. Judi says:
    August 20, 2009 at 1:56 pm

    wow! what a beautiful way to express time passing from one generation to another.

Comments are closed.

Liminal

1: of or relating to a sensory threshold

2: barely perceptible

3: of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition

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