How we let Paradise slip through our grasp
Wanting our babies to be grown
Wanting our teenagers to be babies
Wanting to be young again
Hey! Look around!
Look at the fir bending in the wind
Look at your man, how straight his sweater hangs down over the clean lines of his lithe body
And the eyes of your friend when she laughs
How joy transfigures and releases love
What more do you want?
This is the home of song and God
The mosaic fragments of Eden we trammel daily
Wake up!

Ellen Carleton

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