16 August 2012
Prompted by @wolfie 's The Point of Wasps and a horrible Creationism talk...
We climbed up through the forest To the top of his nose, Through mist and clouds Where the sun danced and joked Until we could see A toy town spread below us. 'Isn't it nice?' the little golden head asked Wide-eyed and wonder-filled, Pointing to gnarled oaks and wildflowers, Dragonflies and bumblebees, Boats on the lough Cruising across the fragile glass To isles just visible through the haze. He saw through his eyes And I through mine, Aged and weary. 'Well, the world's a pretty messed up place son.' I replied, My jumper catching on thorns, A midgey biting my neck, Nettles stinging my shins, Listening for the distant, foreboding sirens Floating up from the city down below. 'As we get older our eyes change.' He stopped to think, To digest his cheese sandwich (how his mummy used to make them) With my words. 'Dad?' 'Hmm?' 'If you put your glasses on,' 'Yes?' 'Will you see things my way again?' 'Why do you say that?' 'Because you said our eyes change.' 'And?' 'Well, You didn't say our hearts did too.'
Cave Hill • Opuss № I