Childhood Lore Poem by Robert L. Bixler III

When the darkness reigns cold,
And one’s sensations give to none,
It is the warmth of love’s hold
That pervades when the heart is done.

When the child’s breathe first comes,
It is filled with maternal fragrance.
Bundled in warming touch that numbs
Of future struggles in hap dance.

In youthful eyes, golden rise of sun
Empowers the child with strong heart;
As he believes that love has won
Before reality’s sting can start.

It is at first flight from the nest
That the yearling learns the truth:
Love’s grasp does not come arrest.
One must zealously fight, hand and tooth.

Still encompassing emotion
Seems afar at life’s summit.
When one’s every notion
Falls in universal plummet.

Solitary trek on soft beach,
As the sun sets beyond the shore,
Reminds of exhausted reach
Of agéd arms for childhood lore.

As the bright light fades from day,
The stars speak of stellar reason.
The waning breath is left to say
The truth learned in life’s lesson.

When the darkness reigns cold,
And one’s sensations give to none,
It is the warmth of love’s hold
That pervades when the heart is done.