growing up

I have gazed into the eyes of angels
Svengali love of a child
wanting candy
testing waters
wrong or right
wanting everything on their plate
not knowing when to stop
gluttony of existance's
boundaries
with peripheral
hula hoops
of the imagery and splendor
found in the child's
creative
world
one that can only find peace
at that age
that time
before we get too caught up in
do's and don'ts
before all the dr. l's
and all the dr p's
before progression
before judgement
when all we have
is the addiction to the
peptides
swaying in and out to
the moons beck and call
dressed in top hats and tails
white glove caresses
across the brow
laying one into a slumber
envied by lonely women
and men who sleep alone