Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
(Haven't been writing and I'm afraid the quality of this shows it. Please bear with me as I try to get my poetic muscles back in shape)
When I was a young boy, my gramps was my sage,
My mentor, my teacher, my friend.
Though quite separated by young and old age
We traveled Life's road hand in hand.
He pointed one day to a rock on the ground
Then said, "Make that rock turn to gold".
I thought to myself....the old boy's gone unsound
Or, at least, is just getting too old.
"Hey, gramps! It's a rock! Are you playing with me?"
He said, "There's a lesson. Please see it.
A thing cannot be what you want it to be
Just because you may want it to be it."
Then he showed me a tree a full ten feet high
And he said, "Jump that tree, if you can."
I said, "Gramps, what the hell! I'm a boy, not gazelle!"
And I got a big smile from that man.
"There's a lesson", he said, "I will pass on to you.
Life is tough. This will help you get through it.
A man cannot do what you want him to do
Just because you may want him to do it."
"Son, you'll be on your own with Life's passions to taunt
You, but never forget, as a man
That a girl may not love you as much as you want
But she'll love you as much as she can."
So here I now sit, almost fifty years hence,
Filled with grief at how my life has turned.
My grandpa had warned me but I was too dense
And his lessons I never did learn.
I sit in my parlor - a young man turned old,
A beaten, pathetic old thing
With a sack full of rocks that will never be gold
And thin legs that have lost all their spring.
I sit here in the gloom and I feel so sad
As I bring back the memories so rough
Of the girl who had loved me with all that she had
Which I didn't consider enough.