the blemish on the moon
was made to be seen as
a patient old woman
ready to wrap me in her
white clothes smelling queerly
of old age that gave some security
or a spritely rabbit ready to jump out
just to amuse me with her flurry coat
i failed to pass on that moon
to my son whom the stars
lured into their web of reality
...all that i knew at much older age
he knew right as a teenager...
i still seek the old lady
and the fluffy rabbit up there
while he engages himself
negotiating the here and now
19nov2009
14.28hrs
indira babbellapati
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dis-enchantment/
