Poetry Corner: The Muse and The Admirer

While flipping through my old journals, I found a treasure chest of poetry- something I usually don't dabble in anymore. For this post, I'm here to share one. Please enjoy.

There once was a boy I felt I knew,
but I’ve only met the man,
the product of twenty-seven years.
Behind the confident smirk, you’d have no clue
there was a boy in search of
Freedom, so –
I close my eyes and raise my glass,
beyond the crescendo of noise the faceless crowds cast.

***
I let the fragrance of the new summer remind me
of the boy who chased
Freedom. No –
there’s not much I know about this old soul.
He’d ride his bike all day, away from where’s he’s been.
Some mock my imagination when I call him my
Muse.
A figment…
And yet I recall clearly his voice and his songs of rock ‘n roll.

***
It wasn’t easy, life was rough.
He had little to lose, so
what the hell, he tells me,
whiskey in hand, splashing about.
He kept pursuing what wasn’t enough
…stopping only at a lone flower, and his face fell.
I never saw him again, but I know
he is out there running wild and free.
Oh, how I wish everyone could see what he saw.
He refused to fall low, and this he told me so:
                                                                                 Be Who You Want To Be.