Into the Book


This is a poem on being alive, and on living fully.

Life’s best is fleeting moments- not snatched out of the water with a worm and a hook
(You don’t catch rainbows in jars, after all)
A crooked grin, a toothless smile
A kiss
A twinkle in the eye of a wrinkled face
A little hand in mine
A tear on a cheek
A glimmer you see on the road, in the distance, and you try to catch it, but it’s gone
The sparks fly upward and then… disappear; the boy in the sandbox finds the real treasure.
It’s not what you look for, just what you find.
All those things- dancing shadows and sparkles- make up the words that are hardest to define.
(Do you see?)
Dictionaries only give you words.
But you wake up slowly, and you realize you’re awake…and love’s just the same.
No one sets out in this life on adventure. It’s just what you make of it, stumbling over rocks and sandboxes, and cornfields and oceans
And if you do it right, you’ll hear the music and see the sparkling lights, and hold in your hand for a moment those things you never thought you’d know, and then you’ll watch them float away like dandelions in the wind, and with a smile you’ll look upward and feel the sunlight.

Published on 12 January, 2015. Last updated on

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