my little boy on the kitchen floor
stick men fighting stick dinosaurs
colours leaping all over the mat
the kitchen floor is where it's at
for my little basquiat
one day
he'll be golden
maybe chosen
perhaps to lead
one day
he'll be shaken
maybe taken
perhaps to bleed
my big girl swinging from the bars
fist of stone flying above the yard. halfway up is halfway down
or maybe it's the other way around
for my little comaniche
one day
she'll be moonlight
maybe too bright
perhaps
to shine
one day
she'll be found out
maybe ground down
perhaps she'll cry
my little girl on her mothers lap
sucking on her fingers
surveying the roadmap
seems to be the only one around
that sees the red lights at the end of town
one day
they'll be older
maybe bolder
perhaps
than me
one day
they'll be rising
maybe living
perhaps
in peace