A Poem of Life
Flames flicker in the late-night fire
The hard oak wood burns ever slowly
as it warms the room
Leading me back to what was
when I was just a boy
The warmth reflected on to me
I need not wear my socks or tee
My always-wandering thoughts
float above the flames
Old games I can see
in the faint lines of smoke
Bits of ash rise as the cinders crack
There as clear as the day it was
When I a child was playing in the snow
“Whoa!” my father would command his steed
A weed I was still I can see it there in the glow
Visions returning to give cause for tears
Years and years have quickly passed
Still I am a boy laughing in the fire
I can recall the town Cryer
“All is calm, all is calm!”
I can see my mother in her kitchen
Doing so well with what she did so well
Her radio plays the music of the day
I can see my grandmother as she prayed
My friends at school
My brothers and sister
All that and all those are there
I know now in the flicker of the flames
Why I am who I am
That man my father wanted me to be.
(A Poem from the Wolrad Collection #118)
