Guy--Part Forty-Five

Splog # 186

Forty-Five

The sky is white. The sun is gone from here.

The boy remains. The tow'r stands tall and sheer.

The river of the Doolins once flow'd strong.

'Tis empty now and dry. The ti-ti song

No longer heard while walking on the earth.

Where are the little birds that gave it birth?

A boy roars like a lion, but the sound

Dies with its echo. No lion can be found.

The mountains are on fire. Is that a tree?

Is that a face of leaves and bark I see?

A train, a dog, a camel and a snake:

Is there a chance a diff'rence they can make?

The colors of his world. Do they exist

In an imperfect world? Or are they miss'd?

The tow'r is white. The grass is green. The sky

Is of a blue that disconcerts the eye.

Take it away. But now the sky is pale.

The grass still green. The girl breaks through the veil.

But only for a moment. She will try

To pierce your solitude. The ti-ti cry

Is lost. But wait! A song of simple beauty

Awakens in her heart a sense of duty.

They want to help. They want to shape a world

Already shap'd. A paper is unfurl'd.

The boy creates. He draws. He paints. He tries

To be his world, to shape it from his eyes.

He sees an island, wishes he were there.

He'll put it down on paper, take great care

To show its varied contours and its form.

A boy lies on the beach. The sand is warm.

He draws the ocean spinning in a whirl.

A boy sinks under where he finds a pearl.

A heart without a body. What's a boy?

A body with no heart? And yet a joy.

A mother without children fades away.

A child without a mother lost in play.

What can he do? He's young. He knows no better.

He lives. He is content. He will forget her.

Lost in a book, he'll read about a father.

The stars wink out but somewhere else they gather.

The night arrives. The moon can still be seen.

The boy's alone, as he has always been.