Richard W. Reith


Living God-sent innocence,
Each day filled with smells and sounds.
In recess, we are breathless
As youths happiness abounds.

Dark porches, Tiki torches,
Moths flying into the flames
Sneak a peek in hide and seek –
Life and laughter all the same.

Tiny paces… Life displaces
The walls defining our world…
And child inside quietly died
As innocence, reality swirled.

Inexorably, horribly,
Idealism now tattered cloth.
Head bowed low, we finally know
In the end, we are all moths.