Friday, November 15, 2013

Memories of a Warrior

late Friday afternoons,
spent lying on wooden gym floors,
whispering silent prayers of desperation
among the dark and empty shadows,
it was there
I heard your voice,
it was there I felt alive,
it was there we talked;
it was there I understood;
then one bright summer day,
I walked away,
afraid of that which
you asked me to be,
trying to run from this
raw burning power inside;
I hear you still;
I see you among the
children of today,
I watched you grow within her,
I saw you take her over,
and I knew what it was
she felt inside;
please don’t leave her.
.

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