The Lake

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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.