Palming The Prize A child is born and hope is well renewed – shed tears of joy upon the promise made – conclusions drawn the age is now imbued with coloured codes that come a cavalcade. That nursling needs the very best from us – tomorrows trove the treasures now amassed –: no wonder, then, were making such a fuss to think that torch is what is being passed. From helpless stage to crawling then to run the measured mile that lays it on the line: the light of love that daughter, else the son, that propagates the flesh, no less divine. As paladins each parent palms the prize, and here and now is where that future lies. -Richard Doiron
Posted on: Mon, 29 Dec 2014 13:55:25 +0000
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