Hot Wheels

The honesty of kin, childhood, the win to have it all, the prize, the goal, a Mother's prayer, the senseless maul, somewhere within my reach, still small! The hot wheel, faded, paintless steel within my hand ~ my heart did feel my Son, but three or four reveal his coping, his new life, my teel. The years, fond scheme, and yet within this child still reckon with esteem his choices, hurts, constants begin my focused art, would still find glean! Within the sewing basket tucked amidst the buttons, colors mixed, this small child's toy, not run amuck scavenged quixotic Mother's fix! His heyday, now at fifty-two amidst the bulging corporate trade, once tiny, sweet, His eyes of blue but focused on toy cars parade! Now oil and gas, a larger trek all busy, but with time so pressed, a family home, the still recess of waiting for their coverage blessed! From small to big, a child's ingress resumes from trusting through duress the simple moments of caress are chosen monument's suggest! God keep my courage to arrest those seaming giant's fouling sport, that from some innocence' impress ambition's honesty to test! Contention's wander, thereby less the larger goal retreat, reveal the cost of money brings duress a childhood's faith, much quieter . . . . real!