At Their Feet

They spoke of a man who left presents
and a rabbit that left chocolate eggs
only if I was a good girl.

Even when I wasn't, I was.

They spoke of love and trust;
if there was enough, a child was born
only if you asked.

I never asked, but I accepted.

I know now the truth behind each lie
and why the lies escaped their lips--
only they knew then.

They had to protect it:
my innocence, my naïveté.
Only now do I wish to be dumb and
transported back to those days.

Those days...
when it was okay to be gullible
when you were happy, sad, or angry
when excitement came so quickly
when everything was so simple.

Lie to me again.
I'm willing to believe it.

- SJM -