So tender of touch, one can find in another. Small in size, kind of numbness of how the world is unknowing, what could it lead to little one. Sleeping upon in the arms, comfort, senseless in fuss, as the bright gleam shine upon one’s small head; sleeping away, so kindly, be only seen in rest.

Clan in a mock of beast that warns off others, of the most understandable mind set, why those, see and only coo in delight. In ways of sight of it all, life starts at first breath, flex in the hand, carefree in wonder.

A little dot one becomes, on sight, watching later in life, expanding, displaying for everything it takes, in living a life. Yet; for now: fragile, not as glass, no to that; facts and fiction, divide here on out, for one just as this. One is human, no difference in that, only what happens in growth.

Becoming something, of one own self, following in the steps of others, slowly as a crawl, but ease in ways that mirror the winds of seasons past and now. Oh, so small child, gentle in looks, spiteful in spirit, a wild fire grows in all us, but at this form, soft ember of sparks lead through the somber tunnel.

The embodiment of the world moving forward, stops us in fear, alas also push us, as just like as this, where we all must go, leads elsewhere, in a muted glow of hope. Not as bright to become blinding.

Far from burning out; in a flame whither smoke of sad despair. Lean in close, hear the huffiest of tires, this small being will take, in again of progress.

Know in what all us fear, of what could go wrong, if seeing everything up to now, was worth nothing, was the one life gone, because balance perfection, caused the riff. In of it now, it doesn’t matter, delays will happen, for that not everything is going to be easy.

This is a life of a breather of air, just as any other, making due, in an unsaid role. Making use of the role, into becoming, something grander, leaves again for us to worry only more.

A life made another life, a connection, that has no real say, is powerful. Even if of how it comes to be, is unsure, the pull of it, declines a real answer. For this is now, the past for it slowly is being paved behind, the future, left blank; in the now, holding close to one person.

Feeling the unmarked skin, that hasn’t fully touched on life yet, signs only leaving, that soon. This little one will grow. Standing stall, first as a follower, not long they are a shoulder to shoulder equal, and soon a leader themselves.

How quickly those happen, in a blink in the eye, carrying those moments now, is all that is left to do. Hold close now, take in what is there, and let the senses take their fill, before when the years tick enough, the words of goodbye come.

Be them able to say sharp and glad, or slow and lost, they’ll come; all it takes is being ready. Even when being ready, is not something that comes easy, yet enough, just a hair thin enough, to make it all worth it in the end.

 

 

 

_MG_8822 Edit by David Peters

Location when made; Williamsburg, Kentucky, USA

Year when taken; 2014

Want to see more of his work, go here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/124082064@N07/sets

MG 8822 Edit by AwkardOddOne

 

 

 

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