Just shooting the poop with Lori |
He travels the world on the backs of others Insignificant in his stature and size His journey carries no mission Randomly roaming at the will of his host Sated enough to never question his trek Life is an open adventure without worry If the excitement of his dusty trail dulls Another bus awaits to grant passage With a furry friend to carry him home Ah the wonderful life of a flea |
They are all grown No more bunnies, to tote along No more tears, to wipe away Cherished days, kidnapped by time One mother's, sad evaporated view Playgrounds now, hold no appeal And a child's laughter, rings out dim An empty bench, with remnant hare Speaks sweet memories of childhood A mother's blessing and heartfelt song Many knees, scraped and bruised With gentle kiss, to heal the wound Echoed tides, of the passing eras Reside upon the wooden pew Such mighty tales the timbers tell Of children raised, in joy and love The bench remains as a keeper of time Grandma will visit to rest in the sun New memories to make with little ones Worn weary bunny, they shall tote along As their witness, to the age old psalm The fleeting moments of family life Are the greatest treasures found on earth They are all grown 24 lines © Copyright 2019 L.A. Grawitch (lgrawitch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. |