I was a child
of children,
’tis infallible,
’tis
fate.
I am raised now
of my own,
’tis salivating,
’tis
a state.
I was a boy-child
begat mute,
’tis aphyxiating,
’tis
truth.
I am now husband
to punctuation,
’tis a-being,
’tis
couth.
I was merely
but a cherub,
’tis evidence,
’tis
law.
I am here now
of a muse,
’tis correcting,
’tis
thaw.
I am of memory,
and seclusion,
’tis quiet,
’tis
serene.
I am raised now
of my own,
’tis hilly,
’tis
green.