Oh, where has that young child gone?

Where now is that young boy -

the one with cute and chubby cheeks,

the one with eyes of joy?

His eyes were blue and innocent.

His skin was pure and smooth.

Obeyed, he did, his parent's rules.

His heartaches, mom would soothe.

He listened with attentive ears

and he obeyed advice.

Some thought he was a bit naive,

but he was simply nice.

His peers would laugh, make fun of him,

his pants short, second-hand.

His shoes had worn up through the soles

inviting stones and sand.

So work, he did, through day and night

with utmost sacrifice.

But forty years was all for naught

and it would not suffice.

A glimpse of him, I thought I had

inside my soul of gloom -

and moisture filled, again my eyes,

inside my life of doom.

If, for a moment, I could fill

his worn-out humble shoes,

I'd long to stay again right there.

I know that's what I'd choose.

I'd seize upon his innocence

before those truths that are -

but I stare into mirror now,

for boy that's near, yet far.

The one with cute and chubby cheeks,

the one with eyes of joy -

oh, where has that young child gone?

Where now, is that young boy?

©2016 louis gander