Seven - Poem by Matt Mooney
Your seven years suit you grandaughter,
Full of fun, racing like a filly unrestrained,
Taking stock of things every now and then.
Soon you’ll begin Sunday school in the city
And you’ll learn of the greatest love of all
And who is to come into your soul one day
In May in Holy Communion to begin a story
Told and treasured between you spiritually.
Your belief in fairies makes me want to too
And of course you are yourself a fairy Queen.
A swimmer rising to the surface of the ocean-
That’s how I see you growing up, inevitably:
Harmonising with the galaxy and its serenity.
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