Children,
the blind explorers seeking the way in blackness.
What’s this?
A glint? A spark?
Closer, closer until…
Laying so still,
a key!
Gold, as pure as light itself.
Warmth illuminates, congratulates
The presence of innocence,
Newly engulfed in comfort.
What’s this?
A wall? A barrier?
Closer, closer until…
An emptiness the size of Tiny Tim,
Yearning for closure,
a door!
Glorious gold glides into the empty cup,
Now filled to the rim.
A single gentle push
As free as a bird, it releases its hold
New life is brought forth
New doors are foreseeable.
All take time,
But all are no match for the key,
To life,
To love.
Love is the key.
Parenthood.