Monday, April 9, 2012

The Lake


In a little row boat,
My son did sail
Upon a lake 
Crystal clear
And as deep as
His imagination.

Upon the surface 
Swam golden fish
That catch his attention,
That play with him
As he played with them.

Like him,
Their existence
Was shallow and playful,
Never understanding
The gravity of life
And what existed in 
The depths.

I shall not tell my son
What lies below,
Until he asks, 
All I will say is
Stay in your little 
Row boat.

I shall not burden him 
With things too heavy
For his little shoulder,
I will let him play 
With the little golden fish.

When he is old enough,
When he is mature enough,
When he is strong enough,
I will let him swim 
In the lake.
 
When he is ready to 
Swim with the big fishes.

1 comment:

Robert Gibson said...

Love this poem. This is a deep one. ;)

 
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