Children At Play

This withered old man homeless and cold,
Was watching the children at play.
He spoke not a word, afraid he'd disturb,
And cause them to all go away.
He was remembering a child from a long time ago,
A time he can barely recall.
Playing a game, "Oh, what was the name?"
It had something to do with a ball.
So many memories forgotten with time,
But the little boy's face was so clear.
He would love to know, what he's doing today,
But nothing can out way the fear,
Of a father whose failed what's most dear in life,
His son, that he never really knew.
While the old man was lost in his thoughts,
A little boy strayed away from the few.
He walked right up and extended his hand,
Then said "Would you like to play in our game?"
The old man couldn't believe the familiar face,
As he asked the little boy his name.
When he told him his name and said he was the third,
The old man knew that his prayers had been heard.
What the little boy didn't know, as they walked away,
Was that he was holding his Grandfathers hand that day.

                                                                  L.G.V.