children

The first time
I thought I held it
but it was only a shadow-
It had lines and definition
perfectly human
rational emotion
detailed generalization
and blatant implications.
Her name was Goodbye.

The second, I held.
Our spittin' image,
since we were made from spit
way back when soft sunlight
drove away the cold night,
crumpled it with laughter-
conquered it with peace.

The first days were
overwhelming
but every spell of cold
would force my head up
and I would say
"I can do this" and
It was never as hard
as I'd imagined.

Redefinition comes with
accomplishment;
I am a dreamer
a future liver
but it's not without fear
and it's not without want.

Everyone has a piece in them
that wants to be a king:
Command the cold away.
A piece that's into
poetic license and control...
or poetry's into them.

So we hold the fire,
without it we'll be cold
but holding it burns
and we must decide:
That hurting is worth
the warmth.