It was without a thought, <br />to wander aimlessly <br />through neighbourhoods unknown, <br />strange dogs <br />loud unfamiliar sounds <br />and glances from beneath <br />the shade of straw chapeaux, <br />one must be seen <br />and catalogued <br />things shall be orderly <br />and idle be no mind. <br />To be so drawn to all, <br />tradition's heavy hand, <br />born into prejudice <br />the nod of a strange god <br />the stifler of all matters free. <br />No, not alone, <br />a cradle's proud mirage, <br />walks by <br />as if by chance <br />there would be life <br />to spring eternally <br />an awkward dance. <br />Yes, <br />and I thank thee <br />who is holding out two hands, <br />I shall, <br />with gratitude agree <br />to take <br />and wait for it to be, <br />forever is the word, <br />I reckon when I wake <br />it will be known <br />that he, <br />the little one... <br />he understands.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich 2<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-fellow-2/
