Photo: D.R. Wagner| A Child's Ballad A child who sings the song of a bird Lived in the town that was once never heard Fresh brightness found in the ray of sunlight Renewed life in search of love and might Stands a mound of trees now in anything but silence With dark evergreen leaves and heavy roots for guidance With the magic of time, this forest remains tall Untouched by rain, sleet and snowfall This boy now man steps into the enchanted woods A never-changing reminder of his childhood A place where footprints are never created With bushes, roots, and flowers on pathways, braided The man remembers every tree trunk and rock His old friends who kept his secrets in a lock When other children would mischievously play The games that would have him running away He found his sanctuary in the tall trees That made him feel he was standing on his knees The majestic effect of his sanctuary made him brave When he would be rejected from the games he craved When other kids wouldn't give him the time of day And never listen to any of the words he would say His soft tears were dried by the tree spirits who flew And strengthened the boy's heart as he grew Everyday the boy would go to his place And sing with the tree spirits surrounding the space They dearly doted him up until his departure For school abroad to study science and nature And now his return reminds the spirits of the sadness That they felt when the boy left in the winter coldness The man now turned to his spirit and bird friends A sentence forms from his mind's bend But never reaches the tip of his mouth He hesitantly turns to face the south As he struggles to find the right words To soothe the tree spirits and the birds His face, instantly happy as he stepped into His old playground in which every flower and bush he knew Was now sad and afraid that his dear friends had mistaken And their absent joy was to awaken The idea that they no longer cared after he left As quick and quiet as a runner of a theft The silence did not pass so quickly As the man thought it would as his steps made crinkly Sounds on the fresh soil of his childhood's memory But he patiently waited, his eyes wandering around the scenery Until the tree spirits and melodious birds would appear Again before him and once more sing his tune so clear But the spirits and the birds did not appear that day Nor the next of the warm week of May The man would return every morning before dawn Setting a blanket and bags of packed food on a grassy lawn He read his book aloud each day as he waited Still hurt, the trees and birds would shrug, not wanting to be baited Understanding the hesitant actions of the forest The man continued his selfless routine, allowing little rest For he was confident that his friends would again show The love they once had for the one they called "as cute as a bow" During the day, he stayed under the burning sun for hours And then at night, left water for the blooming flowers One day the man once again made his way into his place Coughing, he left roughed through the windy craze Until the tree spirits finally took notice And offered him warm nectar of the white lotus They made a warm cave of magical roots and rocks The same ones that kept his secrets in locks The sick man thanked his friends so happily It made the forest ashamed of their actions, madly Their friend did not give up though they resented Him for leaving so long ago, a memory they relented The man then whistled his old tune As the entire forest joined him until the rise of the moon |
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