Dis/enchantment?

the blemish on the moon
was made to be seen as
a patient old woman
ready to wrap me in her
white clothes smelling queerly
of old age that gave some security
or a spritely rabbit ready to jump out
just to amuse me with her flurry coat

i failed to pass on that moon
to my son whom the stars
lured into their web of reality

...all that i knew at much older age
he knew right as a teenager...

i still seek the old lady
and the fluffy rabbit up there
while he engages himself
negotiating the here and now

19nov2009
14.28hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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