The middle-aged man,
Came down to see.
Little children play around,
Young, wild, and free.
He sat and watched,
The children gave a smile.
Around the large rock, he patched,
Flashes of the past in his mind.
He stood up and walked,
At his home above the field.
Where no one smiles and talks,
Only crickets and moths in the weeds.
Lying down in his bed,
A pillow beneath his head.
Stained by the acid in his sights,
That streams unfailingly every night.
YOU ARE READING
Reinvention: A Comprehensive Metamorphosis Of A Young Adult (Anthology II)
PoetryHe found himself in an old lair, there, he reinvented and followed the dry trail.
