Fantasies, like Words, Await What's Real
Fantasies, like words, await what's real,
Anchored only when attached to things.
The dream of fatherhood, that long-sought dawn,
Has now become the light of early morn,
Exact and merciless in what it brings:
Riches to which one can only kneel.
'Mid all the truths the package will reveal,
Sensing well the wonder as it sings,
Drawing well the world to which it's drawn,
A love beyond all words will give you wings,
Yielding joys beyond what you can feel.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon