A FACE OF MY OWN

On the first week of fall

Down one night at the world’s ball

There was a boy who sat far from the rest

Near the lake he made his nest

While everyone else were being merry

He sat below the lonesome cherry

Looking down at the lake’s water

Like clay is looked at by a potter

He saw his face in the natural tank

And to its depths his heart sank

Because in the water he saw his face

But there was nothing to see except the base

Turning around he looked at the others

At his father, mother, sister and brothers

He saw them all with smiling faces

But something was awkward on further gazes

He saw each one’s face was just a mask

Which they’d worn to accomplish a mere task

The task of being in sync with the others

Like infants are with their mothers

Then the rain began to fall

The drops creating ripples big and small

Somewhere near the wet leaves and blossoms

He found his own lying in its bosoms

Wearing it he was happy again

Merry like the others dancing in the rain

But deep inside it was well known

That he didn’t have a face of his own