RSS Feeds

Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Children

Three whirlwinds of feet, arms,
eyes like fireflies.
Jackie, Anna, Megan,
a flock of swifts,
a balustrade of bells,
a choir of laughter,
chasing and running.
A tempest of showers,
rivulets of water,
and everything a toy,
scraps and balls,
dolls, telephones,
walls to pound,
the house opening up its walls
and windows.

Shuddering as if to dance,
a house coming alive
with these children,
with their incandescent souls
reaching through the sanctum
of its usual quiet,
and a joy coloring the ceiling
with their shadows,
running through the doors.

I join them,
lift them as high as I dare,
hide my aches and stiff legs,
and go and come,
egging on their blithe spirits,
joining them like a wave,
crashing in helpless foam
on the sand.

These cherubs of life,
these remembrances of things past.
My house calls out
in its pounding floors,
the awakening of its rafters.
Life is here.
Life is a joyous shout,
a fireworks of light and sound.
These wonderful children,
Jackie, Anna and Megan.

Leave a Reply