Halo of golden curls
Dancing in the sunlight
One small face, enrapt
Longing to get it right.
Tiny hands hold fast
The tub of magic stuff
And clasp the plastic wand
Is wishing quite enough?
Thin strands of wispy grey
Straggling in the shadows
One old face distraught
Reflecting all life’s woes.
Mental hands grasp vainly
At thoughts that slide away
And clasp at empty words
With something more to say.Out there in the sunshine
Persevering lips
Channel aspirations
And in the magic slips.Carried by the currents
Floating, oh so high
Youthful shining bubble
Aiming for the sky.Behind the shaded window
Rheumy eye still sees
That sparkling bouncing bubble
Passing over trees.
Rosalie Squires 