Wings

We’re told that when we raise our kids, We have to give them wings To see what’s out there in the world – The plus and minus things. They learn of love and friendship; They discover hate and fear. Their grasp of life and how it works Grows clearer by the year. From choices laid in front of them They settle on a route, Forsaking our opinions Which to them are often moot. We stand there on the sidelines And there’s not a thing to say; For once the wings are good to go, They’ll likely fly away.

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Robert Johnson

Date: 5/1/2013 10:18:00 AM

Root, Rout, who's to say what's it's about. :) Had to go back and read that line again because I always pronounce it rout. I said to myself, that doesn't rhyme. But then, aha. :) Should have know ilene wouldn't be that remiss. Peace. :) Oh, and wondeful poem ilene. :)

Delysia Hendricks

Date: 4/29/2013 4:15:00 PM

So true, Ilene. At the moment I'm suffering from empty nest syndrome. Both my children have spread their wings and now find themselves in different countries. We're all scattered. Nice write, my friend. :)