His life is like the
Glass – half empty,
Half full.

What sources of
Love are to be
Found lurking therein?

Will they be the
Reruns of “Little
House on the Prairie?”

Or perhaps more
Like daily episodes
Of “******, She Wrote?”

Choices to be made,
Struggles to overcome –
Boys to be heard.

Now the months
Become years – their
Ages marked in tattoos.

Giving up the bottle
And the pack of butts –
A badge of thanks.

A Godly existence
Comes with favors –
Flavors and smells.

Bend down and
Stare at the stream –
Ripples and currents.

No sounds, little to
Lose in the quietude –
Life half empty.

His life is half full
Of regrets and brief,
Tearful canons.

Sudden relief – the
Joy of Mozart and
J. S. Bach.

This fullness a sudden
Surprise awakening –
Emptiness begone!

© Lewis Bosworth, 2018