Thursday, January 10, 2008

The Bench

“Is there room for me, Sirs
There on your bench?
For so long I’ve admired you so!

You’re everything I’ve
Desired to be!
This life is all I care to know!”

“Who are you son and
Just how old are ya?
Too young to join the likes of us.

See we’ve been here for years
Seen much heartache and tears;
This bench, son’s, just too high to touch”

“Oh please give me a chance-
That’s all that I ask;
I won’t take too much of your time.

‘Cuz I think that you’ll find
That I’m far more than I
Look to be from the outside.”

“Son, this bench is reserved
For the chosen, the few;
Those who have proven themselves.

We’ve never seen you--
Right guys--ain’t it true?
Tell us son, what have you done?”

They sent him away
On that fateful day
Tears coursing across his face.

He boxed up his hopes
Never again spoke
Of his dream; those times; that place.

And became a fine barber,
A teacher, a farmer.
At night he sat as he recalled.

Of how he-the worlds greatest
Player just traded
His dream at one simple word

From a worn out old bench
Full of foolish old men
Who hadn’t the wisdom to know

True greatness, though packaged
Not as they’d imagined-
Was standing right there in their midst.

Oh the stories that might have
Been told of that young lad,
Had they given him only a chance.

But they cast greatness aside--
Dreams shriveled and died--
That day before that great bench.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This just goes to show that when one has a dream that person must not only ask for an opportunity, but also prove that they somehow are worthy of a chance at that opportunity.
It also shows that if one is truely desiring an opportunity that they should not give up. After all, these old men will die off sometime and who will take their place at the bench?

Nice poem.

Mother said...

Enjoyed the poem very much. Keep it up. Your are the best.
Love Mother