DancingBarefoot
The Fly
Boy in Men?s Clothing
You say that I don?t know you
But how can I when you?ve locked the doors and windows tight,
And you?ve pulled the shades down low?
I only know what I can see on the outside,
From beyond the high stone wall.
And what I see is a boy in men?s clothing.
Allowing only the weaker to enter,
For fear the strong may force him to look in one of his many mirrors.
The boy I see wears his honesty like a mask,
Understands little but knows all.
The boy I see walks away from triumph to bathe in failure.
He walks a narrow path that leads only to the open sea.
The boy I see could be a man
If he opened the windows and tore down the wall.
If he allowed the mirror to be held to his face
After the mask is off.
If he walked that narrow path to triumph
With humility.
The boy I see could be a man
That I would want to know.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I remember how mad I was at my brother when I wrote this one. Yikes. I realize my family is often the inspiration for poems. I think because I am passionate in my caring for them and in my anger toward them. My brother is the only person in the world who can make me mad enough to want to hit something. I love him dearly, and I must say he's done a lot of growing since I wrote this.
------------------
Nichelle
**Still looking for the
face I had before the
world was made....**
**Work like you don't
need money, love like
you've never been hurt,
and dance like no
one's watching.**
You say that I don?t know you
But how can I when you?ve locked the doors and windows tight,
And you?ve pulled the shades down low?
I only know what I can see on the outside,
From beyond the high stone wall.
And what I see is a boy in men?s clothing.
Allowing only the weaker to enter,
For fear the strong may force him to look in one of his many mirrors.
The boy I see wears his honesty like a mask,
Understands little but knows all.
The boy I see walks away from triumph to bathe in failure.
He walks a narrow path that leads only to the open sea.
The boy I see could be a man
If he opened the windows and tore down the wall.
If he allowed the mirror to be held to his face
After the mask is off.
If he walked that narrow path to triumph
With humility.
The boy I see could be a man
That I would want to know.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I remember how mad I was at my brother when I wrote this one. Yikes. I realize my family is often the inspiration for poems. I think because I am passionate in my caring for them and in my anger toward them. My brother is the only person in the world who can make me mad enough to want to hit something. I love him dearly, and I must say he's done a lot of growing since I wrote this.
------------------
Nichelle
**Still looking for the
face I had before the
world was made....**
**Work like you don't
need money, love like
you've never been hurt,
and dance like no
one's watching.**
