Changing of the Guard
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My wait over in my thirty-ninth year
when an old covet brought a life’s new lease,
and on my first watch would elated stare
upon nursling eyes shut in newborn peace.
Thirty-nine years before first gazed my own -
my tiny hands clutched in my father’s palms
but that spirit was hidden and not shown
and thus I shall spare you no such alarms.
In your helpless lay, in first sleep of babes
the future becomes yours, and now I trust
I will feel its flame before my own fades
and remember to wait if wait I must.
Behold, a changing of the guard I see
when I look at you looking back at me.
Written: July 2004
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2024
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