The Child in the Face

He was walking along the sidewalk

Hands stuffed in pockets

Mostly looking down.

And when he looked up

I saw the little boy

He might have once been.

He had a slight limp,

Like it was compensation

For all the times

Life had given him a hard shove,

And the lines on his face

Made me wonder

What things has he overcome?

When he was a little boy

Did he look as I imagine?

Was that sudden image

That flashed between the lines correct?

He looks sad and weary now

And I wonder when that happened.

Was the boy of him happy?

Or has he always carried sadness in his eyes?

When you look in the mirror

Can you still see your younger self?

Is the sparkle of joy

Still in your eyes?

Or did you misplace it

On your journey to today?

Are there more laugh lines

Or lines of worry

Etching themselves into your visage?

And when you walk down the street

Will the child of your face

Reveal itself to me?

It seems I only see this

The child in the face

When people get older

As if maturity is a measure

That somehow makes us childlike again

And an innocence

Or lack of artifice

Shows our true self to the world

I only hope that when I reach the age

Where my childlike face

Shows herself when I’m not looking

That she winks at you

With a smile of unrepentant joy

And asks to hold your hand.