The man observes the timid child,
Whose gaze he meets not far from him.
A cherub's smile adorns his face
Beneath a light that has grown dim.
The child is blind to the looming tests,
Too young to fully understand.
He seems content with life for now,
And play is all that he has planned.
The wizened man would like to speak
And share his knowledge with the child—
To be the one who guides his steps
And shields him from the days defiled.
He knows the pits that lie ahead
And all the aches that he will face.
He wants to warn the guileless child
To wisely choose the dreams he’ll chase.
He would reveal which friends to shun
And who among them he should keep.
He'd mention days of boundless love
And tell of times when he would weep.
He longs to be his guiding hand,
To offer wisdom gained with age.
He'd light the way toward the road
That leads to joy and not to rage.
They share a sad, discerning gaze,
For they can see it is too late.
They know that time has passed them by,
And mirrors can't undo their fate.
Reflecting an uneasy smile,
Their hands extend and fingers graze.
The wizened man then turns away
And leaves behind his shattered days.