A Young Boy

Written by: kathleen stevens

There was a king adorned with jewels,
 Young and handsome, an age of merely thirteen;
 He walked the garden yards
 And singled out red rose’s blooms,
 Not the yellow, pink or white,
 Only red roses, and only the blooms;
 He played with trick kites, flying helicopters, and
 Wooden blocks—building castles, islands, and towers in the sky;
 He rode his bike, steering the wheels, staying in the boundaries,
 Every day, up and down, up and down the pebbled paths
 And slightly rolling hills;
 Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock,
 But for him—he kept no time;
 Sitting quiet, sitting still, he reads his verse,
 One line, the next line, one line at a time,
 And with the final word read, he wonders a great deal—
About being born, about how to live,
 And death that comes across the times;
 An elegant sunset, and changing of the light,
 He runs across the lawn for his telescope,
 And maybe, just maybe, he might eat a little cantaloupe;
 Feet in flight, and much to his delight,
 A wish to greet the evening stars came true,
 He gazes into the nighttime sky,
 He does not even question as to why—
Whoosh—his day did disappear, and time did fly.