The
Playhouse
It
is more than joy,
Brought
about by weary hands.
Aching
from labour of love,
To
see their tiny eyes shine.
And
how they glow,
Racing
upstairs and below.
Full
of zeal to find fun,
Riveted
by simple pleasure now.
How
glad am I for them,
To
witness what we lose as men.
Palatable
the essence of delight,
They
busy in triviality’s sight.
And
now the opening door,
Welcomes
us into the house of fun.
A
party, more for tea and scones,
Look
how the tiny people run.....
For Bradley and Princess Sophie.
For Bradley and Princess Sophie.
Mother's Day in the States and a week ago Sunday made for a lot of thinking about children. . this poem is so wonderful, full of truths about how we and they grow to see things so differently than when we were young. It's almost just that some attain returning to this state in our cycle of life as we grow old. *Love* the phrase "palatable the essence of delight, they busy in triviality's sight."
ReplyDeleteGreetings from Astorga
Thank you Mary for this comment and your greeting.
ReplyDeleteI am glad to have captured a little bit of the joy I saw in their faces that day only a week ago. Pic to add to post coming soon.
Here is your first Hug. I give one for everyone who comments, because it is in the sharing of thoughts that I feel the essence of love is passed on.
Have a great day in Astorga. xx