Thank you, Lawrence. I'm glad to see you back.
On Mon, Mar 19, 2018 at 7:29 PM, Lawrence Helm <lawrencehelm@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
wrote:
I saw him run across
My yard. I stepped out
As he struggled over my
Fence and paused at the top to
Give me an insolent smirk.
I followed him to the
Mall where he joined
Eight boys more and their
Leader who brashly
Watched – wary that I might
Be a challenge. “Good
Morning,” I said thrusting
Forth my hand. He smiled
Guilelessly. I went on to
The boy who smirked with
A start-something-and-you’ll
Regret-it smile. “Do you plan
To run through my yard again,”
I asked? “What if I do? You
Can’t stop me.” I grinned, “nothing
Back there I’ll miss if you want
It.” His brow creased. The
Smirk disappeared. “You called
Her beautiful, but she’s not.” He
Was puzzled – wanting an answer.
“Ah, but she was,” I entered onto
A more familiar path. What you saw
Through my window was her at seventy,
But look at me. I’m eighty three
And I remember all those years when
She turned heads. When men of all
Ages admired her. You are what, twelve?”
“Thirteen,” he lied. “You run in your little
Gang with your little friends never thinking
Until you look through someone’s window
That you’ll age – unless you are cut short
For your effrontery.” “You?” “No, not me.
“Are you a thief or a Peeping Tom?” “I’m
No Peeping Tom,” he growled. “I was
Just looking for something to take.” “Time
Will steal your years as it did hers. We liked
To hike through mountains on windy days.
Dust kicking up, watering our eyes. When we
Got to the top and stared back down it seemed
We would never die. I turned her gently
And looked in her beautiful eyes which
Twinkled as she looked back.” You’ve never
Known a look like that, and you never
Will, thieves are such short-lived
Creatures here . “I’m doing just
Fine,” he snapped. “So you say,
But there is no path up there
For you. You will never be as
Old as she nor see what age
Does to the face one day you might
Have shaved.” “You don’t know that,”
He said, wishing I would go away.
“Not many change – you in your
Small band steal small things
From houses and yards. You’ll be
In prison in six years and dead before
Your forty-five.” “Don’t talk like that! I’m
Sorry I saw the picture. Sorry she was
Old.” I smiled wryly, “seemed time
Someone told you what it’s like if
You stay in school, learn what’s
Worthwhile and what is not.
You can’t see the mountains from
Here – too many years must pass.
You can’t imagine the beauty that
Will be there if you last. You’ll walk
With her on trails through rain and
Wind that creases the corners of her
Eyes. You’ll squint at what you see
If you can look back at the
Way you’ve come -- and if
No one steals her away.
