a poem by Floyd P. Whistle
In liquid space
tiny wonders
winged and colored
peer out at the world
encased in suctioned
jelly-glass
The brave one
clasps hands
tight
afraid to say
afraid to feel
the courage to cry
fused in a tiny
stone heart
that loss
or pain
or thought
could crack
When little fists release
with the warmth of an arm
a shoulder
a lap
the wee stone heart
can soften and warm
and beckon forth
a dot of tears
It stutters
then falls
cascading down
the softest face
the little winged ones
watch their watery world
dry away
They take flight
wings dry
hearts free
And thank the little one
who finally feels