A mom and child of five passed by,
Up
from the ferry crowd.
The
mother focused on the path;
The
daughter’s head was bowed.
The
walkway, tended lovingly
By
garden volunteers,
Was
bursting with the flora that
This
time, each spring, appears.
Amid
the tulips, daffodils
And
pink and purple blooms,
A
host of birds alit, attracted
By
their sweet perfumes.
The
girl, though, was oblivious,
For
tightly clutched in hand,
Her
mother’s cellphone all of her
Attention
did demand.
It
seems a shame that childhood,
With
such beauty there to glean,
Misses
out on making memories,
Distracted
by a screen.
No comments:
Post a Comment