Some with cries, and some in silence
As her tiny body twists and turns
Stories of ghostly battles being fought besides the door
of spirits hovering near the curtains and goblins on the floor
For connecting with the profound wisdom of those unborn
Through her soundless lips that spout bubbles of air
Her pleades are about us 'elders' fallacies in life
In her suppossed ignorence we find our bliss
In her urgency, we see vulnerability
In her clarity of thoughts we search for our cloud of language
And in those limited times when her divinity dawns on us, we shudder!
But recover and lamely, try and teach.