Fountains of Family
They are the future
Poem
They are the future
We are the old growth
from which new branches sprout,
grizzled trunks and twisted boughs
bearing sweet fruit anew.
Each swell of tiny feet across creaking floors,
each bright babble and giggle,
revives our weary hearts like spring rain.
Where time’s erosion wears,
their exuberance smooths our weathered edges.
In their small hands,
our gnarled fingers grow strong again.
Their sparkling eyes reflect
our own youth back at us,
fresh vistas of wonder we’d forgotten.
They bloom as we fade,
yet we bloom again in their light.
They are our second chance, life echoing
as shoots emerge from season to season.
Our pride overflows.
In each milestone, we relive our own
first fragile steps, the shy mumbles of growth.
Each new discovery lights a familiar fire.
From us, to our children, to theirs,
the chain remains unbroken.
We impart what wisdom we can,
nourish their journey’s nascent soil.
Yet we know the path bears untold turns,
beginnings and ends beyond our sight.
It is enough to play this fleeting part.
They revive our childlike awe,
long-slumbering trust.
They are new and old, familiar and strange.
They are lightning speeding past, even as we stand still.
They are all futures, shining bright.