Spring Day Memories

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
An old man tells a Spring story

Submitted: September 25, 2006

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Submitted: September 25, 2006



"It was a warm spring day,
was it March, or May?"
The old man pondered
on what he planned to say.

His eyes did glisten
by fireplace light,
as he told the story
of losing his sight.

"The wind blew slightly,"
he continued his tale
"we paddled on out,
and then hoisted the sail."

The children grew close
as the old man sighed.
"The wind took control
as we enjoyed the ride.

We passed by fishermen
earning their keep,
and folks who were diving
way down in the deep.

We spent hours out there
on that beautiful lake,
then the world grew dim
and my eyes did ache.

The boat turned around
and we headed back in."
He let out a sigh
and scratched at his chin.

"By the time we got home,
my sight was nearly gone,
and the last thing I saw
was a beautiful white swan.

She sat in the water;
not a worry in life,
content with the world,
ignorant of strife.

I now go through life
with a smile on my face,
telling you stories
in this magical place."

He sat there and stretched
and yawned just a bit.
"I'll tell more later,
but for now I must quit.

Outside you must go,
into the spring air.
It's time to have fun,
and be sure to take care."

The children thanked him
as they ran out the door.
All alone now,
he sat on the floor.

"Why must you lie?"
another did say.
"You were never blind.
Is it just your way?"

The old man thought,
as he chose his words.
"We all have our tasks,
just like that of birds.

What would it be like
if they chose not to sing?
No harmony in life.
No, that's not spring.

Children are not meant
to be trapped inside.
They should be out, and about
taking life for a ride.

Not a day will go by,
No regret will be found
as they run out to life,
putting foot to ground.

So I weave a small tale,
let my lazy eye doze,
encourage them to fly
to where the spring wind blows.

© Copyright 2018 Ivan E. Moore II. All rights reserved.

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