It seems so strange to
think, to know
that I was once a little
boy
with muddy knees and
untied shoes
hair like straw and a wary
gaze
I loved him well enough
but knew
not how to keep him close,
let him wander on narrow
paths
mad sad hills where snares
and tares
and monster lairs are daily
fare
It’s hard to walk with rocks
in socks
He learned that well and
stepped
so lightly no one knew
he never touched the
ground
JRMcF
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com
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