I watched him go,
That shy young man.
Watched him from the safety
Of memory’s silent cold room.
He walked with purpose,
Though, he did not know his purpose,
He was too inexperienced,
Too optimistic, too open.
The world would take care of that,
Push stones in his path,
Rain on his parade,
Give love, then snatch it away.
Watching him, my heart was heavy,
Not for the doubts felt,
More for the envy of his adventure.
Life immersed in a can of peas,
Which delicate green morsel is his?
Will he swallow it whole,
Or, hold it in his mouth, savoring?
There is only one globe offered,
It holds all there is to be,
All the nourishment a body needs,
Life’s perfect seed so easily consumed.
He is distant now, a mere speck,
Yet he strides down the narrow road,
The dust of years follows his heels.
Soon night will catch him,
Swallow him in a cloak of journey.
I strain to see him and wonder aloud,
“Will the dawn remember his footsteps?”
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour