From The Essence Of Life itself.
Updated on October 17, 2009
From The Essence Of Life Itself.
© -MFB III
This morning's pancakes
with their dribbles
of maples tapped,
dot his chin
as he toddles
off to pre-school,
Later the essence
of cocoa beans
will flavor his ice cream
and speckle his face,
like brown freckles.
From the very beginning
between the stirrups
where he spilled from
the syrup of afterbirth,
till this moment of sticky goo
I have just shared,
I have watched him drool,
masticate,and blow bubbles in
the syrups of cows,and coughs,
and snow cones
as well as Gerbers various
pre-concocted delights.
Every day he
wears the syrups
of life on his clothes
tattoing all he enjoys the most
in strange patterns
that I must eventually remove.
In his rush to savor
the sweetness
he often loses
some of the quantity
to lesser stations.
How so much
like life is that,
in our own rush to enjoy
the nectars of life,
we often dribble
much of it away
finding less
in our impatience
and our rush
to inhale more,
then we would have
if we had only savored
each and every drop of life
squeezed from our hearts.
He'll be home later,
splattered with the
various colors of lunch,
in polka dotted sticky,
syrupy patterns,
on his fresh white shirt,
giggling at my
wide eyed gasp,
as he explains
away every one
Just a roadmap of his day,
that we'll surely
ketchup on later.
as I relish the thought.