The Road

the old man sits on the edge of his seat
quiet in manner with words you can't beat
dust swirls, his inspiration in the clouds
at the stroke of his pen, he can silence the crowd
the young man stands in the nook of the room
anxious to be seen, but always swept by the broom
he blows away with a shutter and is lost in the sky
right then the old man leaks tears as he begins to cry
as dusk turns to night and the stars show their eyes
the young man floats down and passes on by
at the front of the porch the old man now resides
he watches the young man take leaps in his strides
astonished by this amazing feat
the young man has got him out of his seat
thinking of things that could and will now be
following the young man on an unfound course he will soon see
the young man trembles undoubtedly into the unknown
briskly walking on thorns and reaping what he has sown
going further and further down the barren road
baring the burdened weight of an undeserving load
getting closer and closer the old man still lurks
in momentary hiding, disguising his looks
bringing to attention the sunrise
as the morning has now arrived
the young man turns bewildered by the silence
to see the old man quiet in manner, but revealing his guidance
before them is the course that is much less trodden
but as they walk, it slowly begins to broaden
their days journey turns again to night
two paths now lie, one with no light
the young man whimsically follows the path lit by torch
to find at the end, the old man sitting on his porch
the old man sits on the edge of his seat
quiet in manner with words you can't beat
the young man stands at the top of the porch stairs
"father you've guided me home" he proudly declares