I write few poems, as I find poetry very difficult and demanding. I am never satisfied with the results, and with good reason. They are not perfect; the style is archaic, and they are not, as some editor said once, the best possible words in their possible order. This particular poem is my first in many years. It was inspired by a recent discussion with my granddaughter, Emily Tarantino, also an author and poetess on Authors Den.

 The Old Man and the Young Boy
Philip Birmingham © August 7, 2007

Once I was an infant babe, But that memory I cannot find
For I quickly grew to a young boy And left that babe behind.
The boy was filled with life So much of the world to see!
Every day an adventure grand With endless curiosity
His hand was always extended,And with a bright smile he would say “Let’s play games and go fishing Come, come out with me and play”
He loved to smile and laugh and tease, so filled with life and fun
His soul and mine were tightly merged, and he and I were one
He stayed always, always ever young, a Peter Pan, you see
Who could resist that youngster’s smile “Come, please come play with me!”
 So it went to the teenage years His young spirit ever there
My very heart’s companion, our soul in each other’s care
Soon I was a young man tall, and then a girl was there
A girl so unlike the others, she was my lady fair
I was at first sight thrown in love, to be followed by despair
For I gave up hope to win her heart, as I sensed she did not care
But then the young boy laughed, and grabbed me by the hand
“Come,” he said, “leave all to me And I’ll make her understand”
 “I’ll make her laugh and smile, and show her that you care
Then she will fall in love with you, and we’ll win this lady fair”
And so it was he won her grace, and I the object of my heart
Followed that by many years, soul mates that were never apart
And all that time the young boy, wild and young and free
Laughed and teased the lady fair, and she stayed in love with me
He laughed and played with our children, and with our children’s children too
And I could always fetch that playful sprite, that free soul through and through
Then the lady fell to sickness, and time became the thief
Then summoned I the young boy, to help her through her grief
She smiled and played and laughed with him, and he helped her through the day
And so it was we found love again, before she passed away
Then I sent the youngster packing, to where my happiness had flown Then grieved because I lost them both, and now I was alone
Now was left but the old man, with sorrows naught could share
No more that young boy played inside, no longer the lady fair
And so it went for many months, days my heart just yearned
Till I awoke one morn to see the youngster had returned
 “She told me that you needed me” And he begged me let him stay “Come,” he said, with open hand, “Won’t you come and play?”
And so he was welcomed back, that young boy with outlook bright
But time and age have taken tolls, And he’s fading fast from sight
I barely catch but wisps of him, as I shuffle though my years
And though he still makes me laugh, he cannot stop the tears
Most I see him in my dreams, that is where he comes to me
Still young and free and fair and bright, and playful as can be
 He opens his hand and smiles, then softly speaks his piece
“One day we’ll find your lady fair, and all your grief will cease”
“And I will make her smile and laugh, and there’ll be just us three
And she’ll fall in love with you again, just you wait and see”
“Take my hand, my dear old friend, the very best is yet to be
Please come out and play, sir Just this one last time with me.”