Sparks (or not)
Emitted from the fire, their tiny illumination endures for the briefest of moments…then, they are gone


I saw you once.
Whether it was yesterday or tomorrow I’m not certain.
So smug…so secure, you sat on Papa’s knee.
No care,  no burden
Just you and him through that hazy curtain.

from your harbored perch
you cast off  pain, need, heaviness and fear and with a wave of your hand as a scepter of light
you blessed your brothers dear.
Then, just to please his little girl, your Papa called us near

3 Responses to “Pigtails”

  1. This is chweet!

  2. I love this! I’m so intrigued about the subject of this poem.

    • I have a friend whom I sometimes call “Pigtails” but this could be about anyone.

      It’s about some who don’t know the experience of the Father’s love – on the outside looking in.

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