Years ago, my friends’ sister had a baby. I wrote a poem. Here’s a rewrite of it:
A handsome young man, so very fine.
Sat on a rock by a creek bed one time.
Took a deep breath of air, clean and new.
Listened to birds sing their song in the dew.
A stranger walked a pathway of stone.
Heard in the distance, just down the road
the young man’s chorus with birds in the trees.
Changed directions down toward the creek.
The young man and stranger met on that day.
Stranger asked, “Where are you from? Where do you stay?”
Young man replied, “I come from long in the past.
I stay in my home, down this stone path.”
Stranger replied, “That was my world too, you see.
A few thousand years before you came to be.
I lived during a time of great conquest indeed.
A soilder, a poet, a musician and even a KING.”
“My name is David,” he said.
Young man was speechless instead,
instead of saying what he wanted to say,
how lovely to meet Prince David this way.
Soon they spoke as old friends.
Young man accepted an invitation from him.
To a musical symphony right around the bend.
“Be sure that your whole family does attend.”
A paradise story, soon to be true.
Though … who is the YOUNG MAN?
Could it be YOU?
