Monday, April 9, 2012

Porch Story

The man drove down my street at day's end
 I watched as his convertible float on through
His grey beard was quite contentedly combed
The aging gent had earned the right to breathe
I wondered  for a brief moment or maybe two
What was it that I was chasing at the end of it all
If I too would drive a blue sports car some day
Would some youth see my grey beard in time
Surely my own September would be as grand
My hands etched dry and my back discontent
Yet the ever flowing wind stilled my restlessness
Oh, my mind still pondered many youthful things
He was long gone away, and still I saw him there
How much emptiness had this man's dream cost
Did he have to trade away all that really mattered
I thought these riddles and more as the hour slipped
While the brilliant edge of summer stained my face
Time would not steal away  my smile this evening
I was much wiser than to chase a stranger's dreams
My own were worth more than some day's seemed
And so I laughed heartily out into the fading sunset
For surely, I knew God was not done with me yet

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