Opportune

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man sees an upset boy with a red umbrella, but leaves him, and years later feels guilty at not handling the opportunity and helping him. Corny.

Submitted: August 06, 2009

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Submitted: August 06, 2009

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Years, many years ago,
In a town I can’t remember or didn’t know,
The streets paved with lead and skies a similar gray,
I passed by a forest
On my way to the office,
And saw something difficult to say,
Saw a boy with a red umbrella sitting in the rain,
Sitting on a park bench by the river Seine,
Sitting with sounds trickling off the plastic pane,
And his tears turned outside in,
 
He wasn’t quite tall enough, feet dangling there,
His face didn’t seem to notice the chilled October air,
He sat in the only dry spot on his lonely throne, his chair,
His eyes seemed so broken,
Without a ticket or a token,
He moved away without a stranger’s care,
I saw a boy with a red umbrella sitting in the rain,
He was sitting on a park bench by the flowing river Seine
Was sitting with sounds trickling off the plastic pane,
And his tears turned outside in
 
And now years and years later, I have a child of my own,
A wife, a pet, love, a home,
I saw that same red umbrella on Avenue Corrone,
I asked his name and saw his face,
It was from a different place,
Could he be the boy I saw before, alone?
Was it he I saw with that red umbrella, sitting in the rain?
He, sitting on a park bench by the river Seine?
Sitting, tear tracks down his cheeks, a hidden, bleeding pain,
No, it wasn’t him.
The boy with a red umbrella and his tears turned outside in.


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