Early one morning, I was thinking of the differences between my wife Edna and myself, in regard to where we would live and how we would raise our children - and this fragment of a poem popped into my head:
"...to raise them as wolvces to live in a forest I had not the courage to enter."
Later, I had the following thought:
"...while you gave them a grace and gentility far beyond my rudimentary abilities."
People have always gone out of their way to tell us what good kids we have (they are now in their early twenties to early thirties). I have to agree, though I have the usual misgivings, occasionally, that most parents have. I don't know if these two fragments will ever come together in a formal poem, but didn't want to lose them.
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