2015 12 04
Birds chirp in branches of the apple tree.
Old Gordon rocks alone on the front porch
and stares at the street where no breezes blow.
"When I was a boy, we played in the street
all day, running up and down across lawns,
weaving around houses, and climbing trees,
and we stayed out long after the sun set.
We rode bikes, and played games of hide and seek,
but now the streets are all empty and silent.
Did people stop having children one day?
Why does no one ever come out to play?
I guess they are all inside their dark homes
watching movies or playing video games.
I turned off the television and came
outside to hear the voices of the dead
because, judging by the news, I would think
the world is going crazy from turmoil
with angry men clutching guns to their chests
and shooting people in churches and schools.
I cannot understand what has gone wrong.
Watching the news is driving me insane,
so I need to clear clutter from my brain.
At least out here I hear nothing but birds.
I worked all my life to help countrymen
build this great nation on liberty,
but relentless wheel of time destroys all.
Soft wind whispers old secrets I forgot
that I read in clouds burning orange-red
which flame across infinite sky of hope.
I lived my life well to build and create,
and soon death will crack mirror of my mind
and I will shatter into swirling atoms.
Then my atoms will settle onto hills
where roots of flowers will transform my soul
into blossoms, and bees will gather atoms
of my soul into golden tears of honey,
and all the fragments of my memories
will become people who consume sweet honey,
and I will sparkle in their dreaming eyes."
Though Gordon stares at the closed and locked doors
of silent houses, the doors never open
and no children run outside to play games.