NaPoWriMo 2017: #11 (a portrait poem)


He is anything except still life
a swirled palette of truck noises
animal sounds, tearless cries,
and running, jumping laughter.
He is a gap toothed, carefree
exclamation mark, pointing
food stained fingers
tugging on sleeves,
giving free hugs to knees
spit infused kisses to cheeks
and seeking answers for
endless questions; he paints
himself in broad, boyhood brushstrokes
and we just watch, attempting
to freeze this fluid portrait,
in the picture frame of time.
His energy exhausts us.
Yet, we wish these moments
to last forever.


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