A birthday Thursday – Twenty One today,
first son, Andrew, has games to play;
a book of scary masks to colour;
pirate, alien, monster, mummy.
He can’t see any particular point in
all that tedious colouring-in;
choosing pencils, stay in line,
boring like schoolwork, forced inside
until he gets the notion,
a mask lets out emotion;
a roar, a scream, a drama queen,
exuberance burst behind a screen
of moments leaking a tiny dream
not for hiding - expressing truth.
Out, at last, the real deal
behind a mask – a sparkling me – and you.
That one got my heart. Thanks for posting these.
ReplyDeleteI've been noticing a resurgence of rhyming poetry, most of which isn't done well - this is done well. good write, excellent observation of childhoods aspect.
ReplyDeleteNice poem, thanks. rental mobil
ReplyDeleteI love this poem and your site! You are this week's Tuesday Poetry on my blog.
ReplyDeletehttp://pawnyspen.blogspot.com/2011/07/tuesday-poetry-real-poems.html
What a beautiful poem. Holds a lot of passion in the words. You sound like a wonderful father by the way.
ReplyDelete