What A Fool Was I
by Roy D. Follendore III
To have tried to stand,
to have left my Mother's milk breast,
to have pushed away from my Father's table.
For I thought that I was immortal,
and had a far more steady hand,
and that my Father
was too unable unsteady then.
I am now old and tired; unable to see that fine golden thread
that I so clearly saw then.
For my now blind eyes were not then;
I know now why my parents did not try hard enough then;
Perhaps my memory was not long enough when,
my feet was not made of sand.
What a fool was I.
Copyright (c) 2001-2007 RDFollendoreIII All Rights Reserved