A Lesson Written In Their Wings

My children have been and still are the most magical beings I've ever known, and I'm grateful to have learned so much from them.

while the world was busy
getting lost in pristine white
their little hearts waited, patiently
for a break in all the commotion

sometimes, tiny prayers are answered-
the storm surrenders all authority,
they take to boots, coats, gloves...
like it's all consecrated armor

they were the first, of many
rambunctious invaders longing to play;
and in the chalky aftermath
of a few frantic snowball fights,
laid the messiest snow angels
any winter has ever seen

and there, within those frosty wings-
the most soul redeeming thing to learn...
that even Heaven,
isn't perfect

Author's Note

Thank you for reading... your thoughts are welcome.

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Travis! :)
I think its beautiful. As silly a notion as perfection is, I think it applies to the states of a child's joy. Thanks for sharing.

[Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)]

Yes, I agree, few things can be deemed perfect, but a child at play is just that. Thank you for your visit, and review.