I looked upon the sleeping angel whose sparsely
Covered head in tufts of flyaway hair, place her
Thumb in her mouth, curl her index in her fine hair,
As she lays curled up around her bunny.
The bunny wasn’t as soft or as sly as she,
But he got around and needed just five minutes
Of rest before the ‘devil’ woke up and sang hymns
As she ran circles around him with great care.
Watching the merry go round of the joy and play,
The cheery laughter that I want to last another
FIVE minutes, as time lapses exponentially,
And we are never ready to see them grow, ever.
They grow slowly, then life changes and imposes
Its disillusionment and disappointments
That are an inevitable result of interactions,
Familial, social, peers, and business.
I wish that infant would stay innocent for longer
Not needing to face oppression, recrimination,
Racism, nor dicrimination which implode into a hater
Rather than a lover who accepts the other in compassion.
Poetry for Change 