A Familiar Stranger

Familiar, yet a stranger
          This face I once had known.
His countenance, though different,
          The voice was still his own.

Shoulders stooped in weariness,
          Head bowed in despair,
Consumed in his dejection,
          He did not see me there.

"Tis hard to see the boy I knew,
          Fraught with worldly shame,
Deserted by his self esteem,
          His honor and good name.

My memory saw a different boy
          From many year before
When innocence and passion
          Breathed, and wanted more!

The man who sat before me,
          An echo of the past,
An empty shell of youthful dreams
          Squandered on his path.

Strewn across an endless waste
          Of self-indulgent lies,
Where all could see his folly,
          Except his own blue eyes.

                                                Copyright 2001 by Layne S. Porter