The child, she lays there
On the covered floor.
Protected from the world,
She learns how to crawl
Not knowing where that
Newfound movement shall lead.
Uncombed hair,
Looking at me with a smile.
The child in her walker,
Supported by the same machinery
That shall support her in the future.
Steps supported by wheels,
As it has been and always shall be.
Man enslaved to man's creations.
Banana spit,
Looking at me with solemnity.
Being fed with a golden spoon,
The child is to learn how to live
On her own in a world of dependency.
She knows not the path ahead,
But I do; and so she looks to me
For a prediction of the world to come.
Waving hand,
Looking at me while growling.
Poor child, I pity you
For I know the struggles of your life.
I look in your eyes, and I see
Everything that I was and will be.
At the same time, I envy you
For you shall have moments that for me
Shall never come again.
Sitting still,
Looking at me; looking at the future.