My children are bandits
Now, at forty-one,
Their thievery leads
to a joyful penury
And to the growth of praise
Of those without guile.Here, a ditty to the patrimony
That I created with a tiny sock
Attached to a spindly leg
The fixation of little beings
Poking about in drawers
This is what we are;
The thankful line of life ever growing.
Eric Maroney 2008, 2011
