Wooden Reality
Child
Boy
Man
Old
In his fear of aloneness
He made us
You and me
Afraid of eternity
He gave us longevity
Such vision he has
His white cane feeling it way
Hallways
Kitchen
Bedroom
Work room
Neighbors never complaining
Even as he slumbers like a roaring lion
While on the street of darkened pawnshops
Welfare shelters and Last Stop hotels
Sleep remains as always
The other way of aloneness
The catch-a-falling-star kind
Puppet slumber is always at the ready
In a world of eternal imagination
Why did we deserve such special attention?
Your strings of woven silk
Mine of his shirt’s threadbare fibers
Such must be the rewards of accepted solitude
Sweet dreams
You too
Share
Print
Save
