Saturday, February 28, 2015
The Crossing Guard
The Crossing Guard
The crossing guard smiled a weary smile
To the wee little child that crossed the guard.
The child had learned all about arctic foxes
While the crossing guard toiled
About life’s tricky boxes
That were placed around him and forced him
To sit with that hexagon sign
Rust speckled edges
While the child skipped on by with a smile and a wave
Precocious, happy-go-lucky way
But the guard didn’t see it.
And kept on with his ways.
Picking and futzing inside of his mind
Worries about life, love, and longing astride
When he took on this job there was only one goal
To see life at its best in the young not the old
But by sitting there holding that sign every day
Somewhere somehow he had lost his way
Perhaps had the sign said Go and not Stop
His life would become something the masses
Would fancy about.
But the wee little child that crossed him each day
Did care about him in his own special way
And one day the child that had painted a forest
Filled with dart frogs, tree snakes, and anacondas
Decided to gift him his art
And was met by another
When reaching the crossing guard
This other was asked about the old man
And he learned with great sorrow that the old man had left
Determined to find the old man was the child
And he asked his dear Mum to please offer her help
And she did and she learned that the man had passed on
And was buried close by at the Eagle’s resting home
The boy and his Mum paid visit to him and his mound of
Fresh dirt that smelled oddly of mint
A rainbow of flowers signaled some love for the man
And the boy gifted his art to the land.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment