A child's hand
Reaches toward
The rays of the sun
Not to hold them
But to touch and be touched
By the warm yellow light.
The hand that reaches for the world
Because it is there
For no reason
But to be touched
By curious hands
Stops the hands of time
In a child's heart
Where dwells
The light of the sun
We speak of it
As the soul
It is the inner voice
Whose language is light
Whose lexicon is mystery
Whose syntax is truth
Children speak with that voice
Long before they speak
To anyone
Some never lose the language
Sandy Carlson Social