To Bela Ourman
My child is grown
to the state of a voice
whose every pitch
asks questions
for which
I have no reply.
These garbled queries
like music to my ears
fill the fear
that as he grows
the questions will
no longer remain
in merely the pitch,
and I may hold
no answers
for his
innocence.
- 1965 -
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2007
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