Kind Man Poem by Annia Rosa

I once knew a man who knew me quite well
He had curly white hair and a powdery smell
He knew me more than I could ever know him,
And all at once the future seemed ever so grim
For this man, this great man, with crow's feet-ed eyes
And rivers etched in his face with no sense of surprise,
He had lived and had learned and had gone with the wind
And had given and grown and drawn from within,
And had words aplenty to share with whomever walked by,
And had cried and had prayed with his face to the sky.

I had lived and I had learned,
But I knew nothing yet
Not like that kind man
His was the surest bet

I had walked and had skipped and had lost my own way
I had cried and had prayed and I thought I was gone
I thought I would never see more than the dawn
Then came the man, then fresh with a skip
In his step, and no rivers had carved canyons
On his face as of yet
And I cried and I cried and yes, I'll admit
I might even have screamed and thrown a little fit

I was little, I was new. I was nothing to see.
Not like the kind man — he had more than me.

Still I'm young,
Still I'm fresh.
Still I'm walking and skipping
But all along, that kind man had been crippling

He was young, and he knew. He was something to see.
But now that old man — he has less than me.