THE LITTLE BOY WITHIN
He’s fifty-seven years old,
A really nice guy I’m told…
But an inside secret
Gnaws at him yet,
The depths to which he’s sold.
A little boy comes out at times,
Generally there’s a pattern, he finds…
And hardly pure
The start of which generally blinds.
In secret it happens when
An obsession from back then…
Til it blows through,
Regretted and let go again.
Obsessions often hook to the past,
Something , some one, who didn’t last…
For what’s left undone,
Opportunities gone and crashed.
Funny–who lives in the past–
Unwilling to give up at last…
Letting hurts heal
Demands one reveal
One’s pattern and feelings out to cast.
Self-analysis is fine
But at a point must cross lines…
Where a little boy sees
What he longs for is around him all the time!