Saturday, January 29, 2011

Diana Der-Hovanessian: DAUGHTER

I was the child who swallowed whole
the sight of showmen eating fire,
flying rabbits on piano wire,
every happy ending told,
sure that straw could spin to gold.

I grew older. Gold spun back to straw.
I learned miracles could lie
only in the beholder’s eye.
Stayed jaded until the day I saw
two eyes fill with my old awe.

This poem appears by kind permission of the author

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