I Talked With Boyhood Self
Dreaming back to early days, my thoughts arrived with stealth,
The boy with whom I passed the time none other but myself;
I mused that I was once again a sweet and callow youth,
If I could be a boy again would I perhaps learn truth.
Curious, I asked that child what he had done of late,
Self consciously he told me that his thoughts were stream in spate.
I sat, I dreamed and watched the trout and wondered if they too,
Think idle thoughts and wonder if their dreams would turn out true.
An older man who’d lived his span, his boyhood was my past,
We sat beside the river and the older man then asked:
And you, whatever crossed your mind that you might better do,
The question was direct at me then how those hours flew.
Have you dreamed as young boys do, as I did years ago?
What fate would place in progress way,
From what these my dreams might grow?
I would be a sailor, then when my feet were dry,
Then I might wed a lively maid, each night by me she’ll lie.
But what of you, I asked the lad whose future was yet cast,
Follow in my footsteps, the footpath to my past?
Perhaps I will, I dream as such, I am adventure prone,
For you and I are one the same before the man had grown.
Michael (Walsh) 08.09.13
quite_write@yahoo.co.uk