Choosing What Could Be

The numbers on my watch aren't.

I can't shake the feeling I've seen something like it before.

But I'm distracted,

Bright colors and giddiness surround me.

My wife is here, which is not unusual,

But also somehow not the norm.

Also, I've never been here before, and yet...

---

I know what this place is supposed to be.

I've seen product on shelves before.

But nothing quite so happy,

Quite so engaged with me, the shopper.

They sing, cavort, and smile,

Even though they seem to be in small spaces,

They are able to move, run and leap.

Perhaps we are seeing into a much larger place,

But the focus is always on them:

Each jar like lens holds at its center a beatific child.

---

Without words they share their tales.

Who they were? Not so important.

Who they can be? Torrents of joy,

endless tale of adventure and discovery.

Each one can be so much.

They just need some help getting there.

Won't you reach out your hand,

Make a deal with a cherub?

---

The price is steep, but the potential

Immeasurable.

I can almost remember their face,

As I feel my own resting against the pillow,

Bathed in the light of a new dawn.