Into Their Hands

Dreams, like orphaned water lilies,

float across the surface


Ferrying my last token wish,

adrift—this silver pond


The swans make way,

as faith glides freely upon the wind


Carrying my fervent hopes

into this moment, present sent


Their petals weaving in the breeze,

to spin and turn as one


Silhouettes change and soften,

as the mirrored distance calls


Arriving at the far bank,

two children play and laugh together


With pant legs high and feet immersed,

splashing to and fro


Smiling to each other, their laughter

churns a magic torrent


As they reach into its spray,

and take my dream into their hands


(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

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