This Child Within The Man {When Crossroads Connect}
Crossroads splitting 'neath July's late sun,
like a silent tremor,
four streets meet,
and it's time for decision-
where to go now.
Looking for alternate roads,
sun dying fast,
narrowing paths and options.
I see a bridge beyond and 'neath
a backdrape of golden
trimmed burgandy;
high sunset bleeding
into evenings mergence,
like a virgin falling,
falling-
falling to her knees
slowly, softly-
to her knees.
I wait for sunsets torch pass
to twilight, such nuance
of final subtle change of light,
enabling me to find a path...
and take me home.
But, the 'wait' seemed as endless time-
endless time;
made my mind drift away -
from logical concepts,
my world of command-
and inexplicably...I was a child again,
approaching the Bridge and grinning
at the illusive kaleidoscopics above,
dripping from the sky.....
like strawberry syrup.
Darkness free from daylights womb,
smothering twilights breath
in concert with three-quarters Moon -
resurrecting light to the nascent eve.
And upon a closer look, i see-
that these crossroads ne'er split, at all;
ne'er at all;
that the abstract drip of Sunset
had merely cast deception
on the roads roughshod pavement
i'd attempted to negotiate,
as all men tend to do!
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poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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