Somebody’s son
sits alone beside the highway,
waits for another fearless stranger
to drive him farther
down the road.
Somebody’s son
carries everything on his back,
runs away from one thing,
toward another,
keeps moving, always moving.
Somebody’s mother
looks out the window,
watches the mail,
waits for the phone to ring,
wishes things had been different.
a beatiful poem. rememer when we could stop and pick up a son beside the road without fear in our hearts.
ReplyDeleteI'm sending out a wish that he arrives welcomed wherever he is going.
ReplyDeletePatsy, I do remember times like that. Things have certainly changed.
ReplyDeleteAnnie, me too.
Velvet, I love what you write.
ReplyDeleteIt is so true.
Thanks for welcoming me home. i have missed you all.
Very moving poem, Velvet. So sad at this time of the year, when everyone should be with family and friends. When I go to the city and see a homeless person, I can't help but think "that was once someone's precious baby."
ReplyDeleteVelvet, that is a beautiful poem and it touched me - made me wonder what he was leaving - and what he hoped to find. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeletebeautiful. Makes me think.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments, folks. I was moved, too, when I saw the hitchhiker. Now, after a knee-grinding session of Christmas shopping, I kind of wish I were going with him.
ReplyDeleteAlthough your "Out with the Old" posting is more appropriate for today, I had to comment on this photo and poem: it speaks to the hearts of mothers (and maybe some sons) everywhere. Touching and true.
ReplyDeleteThanks for making my acquaintance, Velvet, and for the link to the folks in New Mexico.
Happy New Year!