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(12-05-1953 / Somewhere under heaven, Georgia, USA)

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A Perfect Picture

I am rearranging old books on a shelf.
Sunbeams fall onto the dust of my stirrings,
forming soft rolling pillars of glitter
in the muted light of early evening.

I think; It must be time to dust in here.
But there is a peaceful beauty in dust beams.
They give me time to pause, and reflect.
They are the history shed of ordinary living.

I look around my library; stacks of papers,
books, trophies, and family pictures abound.
My eyes are drawn to a little silver frame.
My son, Richard, when he was only three.

He was all smiles and white sunshine
standing in my summer tomato patch.
Richard was born with a little extra love,
embedded in the form of a chromosome.

Down's children can be so loving.
Sitting on the floor in my dusty library,
holding the smiling face of love,
I realize something important today.

A place doesn't have to be organized,
a thing doesn't have to be unblemished,
a person doesn't have to be perfect,
to be truly beautiful.

Submitted: Friday, April 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 02, 2013


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Comments about this poem (Fourth Grade Drill by Shirley Alexander )

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  • Shirley Alexander (4/20/2013 11:28:00 AM)

    Thank you. A child with Down Syndrome is a gift from heaven. He gives me a reason to smile, regardless of what else is happening in my life.

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