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Apr 2017
The eggs had been colored,
  all scattered about

The baskets were hidden,
  the children now shout…

“Was he here mom, was he here?”
  they yell from upstairs

“Come down and find out,”
   she says—nary a care

Their little feet rush down,
   taking two steps at once

Wide eyes dart all over,
   playing their hunch

Living and dining rooms
  they tear with a fever

No corner is safe,
  from the incursion of either

“I found it, I found it,"
   the bigger one said

The smaller one saddened,
  their heart filled with dread

“The Bunny forgot,
  there's no candy this year”

From across the big room,
   the first start of a tear

“The Bunny never forgets,”
   their mother cried out

"You have to look harder,
   both inside and out”

And as the front door was opened,
  the little one chimed...

“Mom, he didn’t forget,
—it was here all the time”


(To My Grandchildren: Easter 2017)
Kurt Philip Behm
Written by
Kurt Philip Behm  kurtphilipbehm.com
(kurtphilipbehm.com)   
105
   Keith Wilson
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