ol' Bore 10-14-05

As a group of boys chose two teams for kick ball,
a small boy stood in the midst of them all.
One by one they were called, one by one they were taken,
but with six on each team the last was forsaken.

The boys had the ball and with six on each team,
the one could not play – no matter his dream.
So he hung his head low - on the lawn took his seat,
with his head in his hands and tears on each cheek.

There was a building nearby and on the top floor,
sat a crippled old man that they all called "ol' Bore".
The old man looked out through his window up high,
seeing all of them play, but the little one cry.

He watched them all, having fun far below –
minus that one that felt ever so low.
But the sun shone bright in the evening sky –
exposing a glimmer in that little boys' eye.

It's a well-known fact that life isn't fair,
but nice it would be - if we could all share.
The boys all yelled except for that one –
as he sat all alone with shoestrings undone.

Yet up there in silence (except for some birds),
'ol Bore spoke a prayer in just a few words.
It didn't take long as he whispered that call,
so that maybe - just maybe - that boy could play ball.

As he pulled his head up and looked down below –
why, that boy was gone! Now where did he go?
He looked left and right, and then far and near –
"Where?" he asked, the answer unclear....

Now that is impossible! For this we all know,
that a boy can't disappear in thin air – its not so!
He could only see trees, a pup, and some sticks,
and the big group of boys that were having their kicks.

Then something caught his eye on the lawn there below.
Those two teams seemed different as they ran to and fro.
It seemed quite peculiar, as they would all run –
six on one team, same on the other.... -plus one?

Yes! There he was! Playing with all the boys –
filled with numerous, exuberant joys!!
Though he ran back and forth quite slow,
his eye was still lit with that peculiar glow.

He continued to hear the boys kick the ol' ball.
They played a long time - until the nightfall.
Then they started for home (and even the pup),
but the little boy stopped - then turned his head up.

Exhausted because he had run a good mile,
he raised his hand high, with a very big smile.
He waved it wide from his left to his right,
so the old man could see from his uppermost height.

Then the crippled old man smiled deep down inside,
and raised his hand up, waving right back in stride.
On each side of that window, a connection was nailed,
from a short simple prayer, and a God who's not failed.

Now how could a boy see a man way up there –
behind that high window with love in his prayer?
Maybe, just maybe, the crippled mans' cry,
was heard by that child with the shine in his eye.

Although a prayer is much more likely to be,
heard by a God that loves you and me.
He loves us all to our innermost core –
even a child with a prayer from "ol' Bore".

Will some day we learn (no matter how small) –
Our prayers can't be answered if we know it all?
'ol Bore didn't know as he waved goodbye,
that he prayed for a boy - with a shiny glass eye.

©2005 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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