First Born Son Of Mine

First Born Son of Mine

Someday he is going to stay, but not today.
He yearns for the family I broke years ago
Tormented, angry searching for his place.
He wanders the streets wide eyed.
His pants are frayed, his smile is endless.
He dodges Italian suits and silicone smiles;
they are faceless successors that endorse his inadequate education.
The 15 ½ inch wide board cuts through the crowds like a shooting star.
Searching as the pavement blends like days lost.
Viewing each face that may resemble his.
Trapped in color.
Someday he is going to stay, but not today.

By: Mars Meadows
Matt Dishman Center ©