cogs
05-07-2012, 10:10 PM
As I hummed an old song,
On the playground new moms
Closely guarded young ones,
Where I found a worn wallet
Within, a man, my age,
In faded laminate,
Beheld this third dimension,
And mirrored my reflection
He spoke in echoed tones,
"I know that song you hum,
I wrote it in the park,
About the start of Spring,
My past was shorter, then.
In ink, experience
Composed my past regret,
Just as my wallet fell,"
But his tale was cut short
With a baby's grieved wail,
An eternal, vain plea
That we sing from first leaf
On the playground new moms
Closely guarded young ones,
Where I found a worn wallet
Within, a man, my age,
In faded laminate,
Beheld this third dimension,
And mirrored my reflection
He spoke in echoed tones,
"I know that song you hum,
I wrote it in the park,
About the start of Spring,
My past was shorter, then.
In ink, experience
Composed my past regret,
Just as my wallet fell,"
But his tale was cut short
With a baby's grieved wail,
An eternal, vain plea
That we sing from first leaf