BREATH OF A CHILD'S UNDOING
 Author: MICHAEL POLLICK

Spring and breeze and such were oh so powerful then- 
   I fiddled and I fiddled and I fiddled while Rome was still smoking; 
   I danced and I whittled and I climbed and I giggled, 
   And drank the finest of barrelled rainwater. 
   I was no match for Earth, metaphorically speaking- 
   She found me once at the end of a ramp, 
   She reached for me at the height of my swinging career, 
   She confounded me with her dandelions. 
   I should not ask for better teachers than Sun and breeze and such- 
   For in their memorials are found the blocks of who we were; 
   For in their branches are found the lilacs of our renovations, 
   For in their arms is cradled the breath of a child's undoing. 
   (People should ask what I am doing here, all alone and uninvited. 
   I should have asked what I had done here, so small and unrequited.) 
    

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY MICHEL POLLICK 
copyright 1996 by Michael Pollick 
limited electronic reprint rights granted