Tuesday, June 26, 2007

For Boss, with love

He is a small maker of gentleness;
a guileless child chosen
as a keeper of innocence.
In a heritage of harshness,
his unique marrow lacks the cells
of unkind aggression.

His smooth tongue speaks softly without
barb or bite,
no stinging meanness wags it;
no raw edge of anger to thought or tooth.

This December child
in a winter world of stasis;
slumbering in a blanket of serenity without
the threads of discord hemming him in.
Having somehow tuned out the channels
carrying springs language of competition...
He wears a half moon smile and speaks
with a quiet, broken whisper.

The landscape of his gentle heart
dotted by daisies of charity
dancing amidst them on the stage of
his secret knowing....responding
to a tune most of us are never priveledged to hear.

Without pretense or pomposity
He sings his own melody,
no cruel notes, neither high nor low nor lurking in between...
Sweet, sweet harmony’s song
from a small boy both lost and found
in the unhurried lingering
upon the open landscape
of his own sweet sound.


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