Floor

kids sound nice

I imagine in my mind
(And hopefully not far off!)
Of tranquil, green herb gardens
Tended by delicate robotic hands
Scattered purple flowers
Through light filtered
By ancient towering trees

I like to daydream
(And hopefully I’m not wrong!)
That generated tokens
Stand below
Tiny handprints
In red and blue
Hung on every wall

I stargaze
(And you can too!)
To see the places they’ll bravely go
First in paper-mache helmets
In cardboard box rockets
With pictures from the courageous metal scouts
Already there

I work
(And with joy!)
For full kitchen tables
Books strewn in every room
And dirt on the outdoor rug
For bandaids and for microchips
And road trips
Through serene mountain tops
And phosphorescent city scapes

I trust
(And hopefully you do too!)
In tattered scrapbooks
And handwritten notes
In sweet dreams
And lullabies
In blurry phone photos
And bouquets of flowers
In washed hand-me-downs
And creaky bunkbeds
In scented candles
And wooden fireplaces
In repairing old cars
And used computers
In dirty diapers
And late night trysts
In the ones we create
And how they create us

I want
(And not to be bold!)
Not a particular outcome
Of scientist or artist
Or rich, or poor
I just want to show them the future I adore
And hear the musical pitter patter
Of their tiny feet on my hardwood floor