On what was, what might have been,
Considering the paths he should have, might have, could have
Taken through a long, wandering life,
He dreams of loves lost, of battles fought
Of happier times, of meaningful moments.
He knows full well there are more days
Behind this day, stacked up, piled up
In his sputtering memory
Than there are ahead for him.
A young man walks, not looking yet
For a path or trail, not considering where
Foot may fall, or which road is taken.
His mind wanders over things he will do
Hopes and dreams, goals and "gimmees"
Wants, desires, lusts, laundry lists of things
Fill his rumbling, tumbling, busy mind.
Baby boys sits up,
Falls over, rolls over
Lifts foot high in the air
And contemplates his big toe.