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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


Let it say,
poetry and children moved him.
They were the last breath
of my life.
The only thing for which
I opened my eyes
against inevitable fate.
Poetry lives in my soul,
and children water my love.
They cannot be
without each other.
Did I know this in the beginning?
Does a child realize its purity?
Does it sing and play
and wonder what it is?

I don’t remember such a thing.
My childhood was magic flutes,
the smell of bark and chestnuts,
the coming and going
of imaginary friends.
I was a nomad
in search of tunnels,
stepping stones,
the fallen moon.
The language of children
is poetry.
They never shut windows.
They shout in happiness
when the sun comes up,
and I will hear them
even as I die,
like love calling out.

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