Our little son with sunlit hair
Sees life in a different light,
Each day a new and sparkling gift—
No shadows left from night.
Each sound and moment fresh and new,
No bleak and dragging hours,
Where we see all the pesky weeds,
He sees pretty flowers.
He sees mommies, daddies, grandpas, grandmas
In hurrying, rushing crowds.
We see jet’s pollution;
He sees “airp’ane clouds.”
He finds delight and interest
In everything that moves.
Where we see just a smile or wave,
Would you believe? He sees love.
©2010 Carol Morfitt