The soft laughter of children floats through
the window looking out on the playground.
Pure innocent delight, what a lovely sound.
No worries, no cares, outside of space and time
unless a stumble and scraped knee intrudes
fixing the moment, breaking the rhythm.
Run home to Mommy to clean the cut,
she always calm, always in control.
Do you remember the moment
you discovered that no one was in charge,
that the skin of nature was scraped
beyond all repair?
