Friday, May 24, 2013
A Friday Poem: "Hope, in Four Points"
Our little dog Valentine lives to hope.
Once, free of leash restraint,
He met a friend, a foe, also roaming wild.
When we reach the hill where that dog ran,
Val stops, looks up, and scans in hope.
I stand under that same hope.
The day of my baby brother's birth,
I stood on the steps of my grandmother's stairs,
A towel-cape pinned to my shoulders
As I jumped, step to step,
Knowing I could fly.
The cereal box told me so:
Eat me and you'll fly like Superman, it said.
My grandmother at the foot of the stairs watched,
Hand on hip:
Is it a brother or a sister you'll be wanting?
A baby girl, I said. Please.
And then returned to the real business at hand.
One day, that wild dog will come again.
One day, you'll fly away
To the beckoning blue beyond.