THE ROUND


Having come to little or much,

we come to little again--

like children, coming and going,

like children at the end.;


Except for the wrinkled faces,

the bent, arthritic limbs,

and dreams of long-dead fathers,

stretching out empty arms.


Suffer the little children!

Small, let them grow so small

they may pass through the tiny doorway

in the little garden wall--


and mingle with the grown-up children,

those bright-winged sons of men

who having found the arms of Fathers

will never grow small again.



Copyright 2010-2012 Paul Petrie