Old Men Walk Barefoot!

they would cut the wings from sparrows,
and deny the face of the wind.
take the laughter from the small child,
and bury the old man's shoes.
fill the cup with oil,
and burn the pages....
erase the names and the memory
of having been...

but the sparrow flies beyond their reach,
and they cant touch the wind.
the child gives his laughter freely,
and the cup has been turned over.
the pages feed the fire with desire,
and names and memory are written on god...
we who have lived have something
they cant take away...

that we give without looking back!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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