Reflection

The aged man observes the child,
Whose gaze he meets not far from him.
A cherub's smile adorns his face
Beneath a light that has grown dim.

The child is blind to the tests of life,
Too young to fully understand.
He seems content with life for now,
And play is all that he has planned.

The aged man would like to speak
And share his wisdom with the child—
To be the one who guides his steps
And shields him from the days defiled.

He knows the pits that lie ahead,
Aware of the aches that he will face.
He wants to warn the blameless child
To shrewdly choose which dreams to chase.

He'd tell which friends he should avoid,
The treasured ones that he should keep,
The point at which he'll fall in love,
And cite the days when he will weep.

He wants to be his guiding hand,
To offer wisdom gained with age.
He'd set his path toward the road
That leads to joy and not to rage.

They share a sad, discerning gaze,
For they can see it is too late.
They know that time has passed them by,
And mirrors can't undo their fate.

Reflecting an uneasy smile,
They stretch their hands; their fingers graze.
The aged man then turns around
And leaves behind his shattered days.