Yesterday's Boys

I saw my boys the other day while Digging for hidden dumpster treasures. I had wondered back to my yesterday By sheer fortuity, a destiny created by Hooch and instinct. They have grown Into youthful perfectionism and I'm Afraid to be seen. I hide behind the dumpster nor ready or Not wanting to be seen by these perfect Little gentlemen lest they suffer the trauma Of a bad dream. I hear muffled conversation Perhaps talking about a new computer game Or maybe, God forbid, about me. Are the scarred from my lack of being Or have they washed themselves clean Of me? On my birthday do they remember And weep for my nonexistence or do they Simply live a child's life with all its Wonder and unknowing joy? I want to hold them in my scarred hands. Pet them and coo to them my love but I Would scare them and thus put an end To their innocence. Why has fate played A hand of inevitability on me? They are Smiling now and laughing. God, let them leave! I panic....they are leaving now and my feet Are frozen solid and heavy. I want to reach Out and touch them but I am a statue of ice. They pull away on their bikes and peddle Out of my life once more not knowing how Close I was to yesterday's boys.