My Monday Metrical Musings #97

photo of person s hands

Hard to fathom

C seems unable to fathom
Why we look at him exhausted
Scarred, beaten
Longing for extraction
Inner sanctum
Set free like a billowed leaf
Yet buffeted uncontrolled
Flurried and flustered
Harried and hustled

That’s the life
We did not choose
Yet it’s one we’ve weathered
Many trials through and through.

It’s not contrived
This life of strife
I’m not making it up
In case you’re rolling your eyes.

Even if you are
I’m not surprised
I’ll react the same too
Had I not him in my life.

But I have and he’s been
More than colorful.
There are days that seem
Exactly alike
And others as different as
Day is from night!

The calendar continues to
Flip from month to year
Yet my dear little guy
Stays the same I do fear.

What if he never grows up
But stays the same
In size, maturity
Is that a boon or a bane?

It’s hard to fathom
What tomorrow will bring
But I have to trust
And not let it draw me in
To melancholy or despair
Despite the snail’s progress
He’s makin’.

Faith Hope and Love
These three now remain.
But the greatest of these is
(Our Father’s) Love

For C.

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