I look out back window and a young child
of eight, running bases around the yard
wearing ball cap is my young self twenty-five years ago.
Laughing, having fun with cousins
chasing, hitting balls, playing baseball
not knowing in few years life will change;
puberty will come striking like a coiling snake
changing their life molding it into something else.
I want to step into the scene
tell myself not to worry;
to give advice about what will happen;
give hope to this happy child
before the happiness drains ways;
withering like a flower in hot dry sun.
I want to open the window
shout out stand up for yourself
but, no words come out of my mouth;
you are out of ear shot, as I watch
you enjoy your game of ball,
not knowing the hyenas will be nipping
at you heels in a few years.