(Abide! Abide…full fallow time of this
mind-mine that cannot hide, cannot release
this peace inside, this translucence of bliss
cannot last, cannot exist. How, then…peace?)

A day of papers, blank and written, combed
by childish eyes…theirs and mine. School years passed
and the pile grew high! A day of sorting
paper – papers of life! Abide your past,

children of mine, loudly your words delight
in your finds; “my penmanship’s rotten!”, “See,
Mom, this is me!”, “one hundred per cent!” … flight
you are sweet! Will always abide in me…

Tower of papers that fell through two years,
you are the dew of new consciousness…cheers!

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 6/13/04