Treasures of My Soul
The more the world changes, the more it stays the same.
I was just telling my 2-year-old Dragon, this the other day.
Now I have a petulant Dragon, once I had a petulant child.
They might be very different, but they are both very wild.
I used to have a neighborhood coffee clutch, coffee, black, sugar, and milk.
Now its Starbucks for a mocha late espresso and it’s WiFi, or that ilk.
I used to be a chemist, jotting in my notebook of experiments every day.
Now, it’s a fancy computer playfully typing, while in Grandpa Troll’s lair.
The only difference I seem to find, as my arthritis begins to take hold…
Is that I’ve opened up a treasure Chest where I’m Merlin becoming bold.
Pearls of wisdom I now spout to a Dragon, as my mind begins to look around.
And some times he even listens… Naw! Remember he’s like my child!
And my 10-year-old black Lab is now laughing and talking directly to me.
My hubby lent me his Trolls, so I could begin to see the world, as it must be.
But, most of it’s seen in ‘time out’, across a lake from Dragon on the opposite shore.
We don’t see eye to eye very often, as Grandpa Troll, lays down the law, for sure.
Yes, my Treasure Chest is always over flowing now, with new and different things.
It seems Dragon likes to bring them home, while gliding in on his beautiful wings.
But he’s only 2 years old, and still needs a little motherly advice… like yesterday…
He found out my name isn’t Mama after all, and Dragon tears began to flood… all away.
So, I just cuddled him gently, as I told him my real name is, for the world’s whim.
But then, only one who shines so brightly, is allowed to call me Mama, just like him.
At that moment another pearl dropped into that over flowing, treasure chest of mine.
As Dragon keeps bringing a new way of life, filled with so much brilliant sunshine.
Happiness is a choice I’ve found, that suits me to a tea, and snippets from my Hubby…
Help keep the sunshine bubbling from that treasure chest, with my royal decree.
Still, as things keep changing around me, the more they seem to stay the same.
Now, I’m not writing only for my child, it’s toward other children… I aim.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013
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