Crayon Soup

when thought wields you,

i implore innocence.

that of

the innocent hope that

you will matter

years from today.

. . . years away

from whatever trust we manage

to borrow

beg

steal

our minds,

hearts

creditors, debtors

in the rugged exchange

not always brave.

when we are years away

from today

its potential

for

perversion

or

neglect

or stupidity

or dishonor,

i don't want to find myself

beside you

our ruins

heir apparent

in our bed

in the morning,

when we face the morning sun

snow gilded

upon our favorite branches.

yes

i desire

innocence.

so i maintain

you

in my heart

soul

mind.

and i learn

what hope is.

and i become it.