when I was very small,
I’d crawl to Daddy’s tummy,
rest my head
against his heart—
and sleep.
we’d remain,
Daddy and baby. suspending all squirming,
until we woke,
in the same position,
hours later—
I was the oldest.
he didn’t realize
that most babies wiggle
sleep away.
it became my armor—
the concentration to read
in a crowded cafeteria
while nearly empty milk cartons
fly above me.
to let actions
wash over me.
I am not the frenetic tide
of noise and motion
crashing against the rock.
I am the rock,
shaped, but unmoved.
Prompt for: Sept 16, 2015 (fyn)
Subject or Theme: Personal Gift I believe each of us has a gift...a trait that is unique to ourselves. (e.g. the gift of making people laugh, the gift of kindness, or an artistic gift like painting, sewing, cooking or even writing. These could be physical, mental or emotional gifts, like being intuitive or being a healer, but everyone has something.)
Word(s) to Include: armor, frenetic, suspend (or any derivatives of these words)
Forbidden Word(s): gift, trait (or any derivatives of these words)
Additional Parameters: Minimum 24 lines of free verse. Use your trait in the title.
Remember, do not use forbidden words ANYWHERE, including title or the brief description.
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