Today I thought I’d share this little poem.
He was the best of us, we thought: there was a glint of magic in his eyes. While we would hide our hopes in veils of self-effacement he was serene in certainty. His words would glisten as he spoke them. Upon the finely sculpted features of his face there bloomed a sheen of destiny. It was too much for him. When he was found there was no lamentation, only disbelief. His face, despite its stillness wore that same gleam of promise even now. How strange, unsettling to discover he was a shell, polished shiny by the sand and sucked empty by the ebbing tide.
2 thoughts on “Golden Boy”
Now that I’ve seen this poem written down, I understand it much better. You’ve told a tragic story in a concise way, Tim.
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