Little Finger Tips

Paint swirls like soft finger tips
The fingers of children
Enmeshed in life
And the inability to see past a moment
Yet cherishing the moment
With all the colors of their tiny fingers

The world seems brighter

Yet I have a thing for dull colors

And the children seem foreign to me
Aliens from some other planet
That is not quite as practical as me

So impractical

Inviting me into their world
Painted with colors from their finger tips
And figments of active little imaginations
Asking me to sit down

And... sometimes I sit down

Try to find something familiar
Something that the buried child in me
Can try to understand

And then for a brief moment
It makes sense

We are to be like little children

The world is so much brighter
It doesn't have to be

Practical