Fabrice Poussin


The moment of light sweet freshness and soft breeze
two greenish little orbs open onto yet another day
in wonderment as to what may now be revealed.

It seems silk sails undulate with this new energy
is it time to stretch those dreams and shake slumber
or to contemplate the instant when a twitch occurs?

Unwillingly with a force deep inside, the clock tolls
no more choice the hours’ hand tosses a little fuss
kitten attempting to become a tiger, he raises at last.

Leaves of a year gone by mark a date not recalled
numbers flash strobes before his puzzled gaze
two hazy, twelve so neat twenty-to and a new life.

Comforted by a warmth unchangeable born again
a little scar like a crow a dot and a little more gray
only a surface on a canvas stretched to outlast all.

The core resists under its protective shell a young soul
to this world perhaps old in its deepest existence
yet a child inside meek vulnerable as the lamb.

He knows no age every day is a birthday so glorious
at play with thoughts and motions he follows a lead
special little boy little legs though a little grownup.

Perceptions of a mystery so great blinded by marvels
unceasing surrounding; every step is as if drunken
while shaky digits seek the boundaries of a world.

Will he again step out into this jungle where still
he remains little in his heart, small in his mind
though he may too stand tall as his many peers.

No! it is no use, there is no need dear friend
perhaps a curse in fact a blessing coveted by others
stay little boy in your blood run and follow the vision.

She too lives in a doll house of her intimate making
someday soon the doors will fling wide open
and you will once more play the games yours alone.