Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Growing Pains

5) c) As I watch you unsheathe your sword, as bare
Fangs check enemies, stop them in their tracks,
It seems reckless to temper fair attacks;
For dreams of nobility did tear at
My seemingly feeble body of three.
Yet dreams are just what they are, meant to be
Rut's, seams in our mind! they tar us, consume
Us by the tinfoil armor they are. Must
Such thoughts, royal in nature, presuming
Of foes, lead me to such mistakes as this?
But, rowing down creeks at the age of three
I kept in mind they would soon become streams;
So set in my stance I remember, lest
I stop a boy from becoming his best.

                                             Growing Pains, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

No comments:

Post a Comment