by John D. Johnson

Created on: August 17, 2009   Last Updated: August 18, 2009

THEN & NOW

Fifteen years previous,
I bounced a small spheroid
Right on the walk near that old yellow house;
Hopefully dreaming
Of life on the hardwood;
Never once fearing my dream would be doused.


There in that driveway
The feathery fibers
Cracked with a SNAP! And sweet-splashing HISS!
More and more often,
My aim would produce it,
Announcing to all just how rarely I'd miss.

And just for enjoyment,
I'd leap from the asphalt,
Drunk with the feeling of rising so high;
There, levitating,
I'd move and meander,
One with the wind and the powder blue sky.


A game in the city;
A game in the schoolyard;
A sweet celebration of energized fun;
Each move and reaction,
Each flashy transaction,
A youthful reminder that youth was not done.


So many images
Crowd in upon me
Begging remembrance from times left behind;
Not long ago,
They were hopes for the future,
Driving me toward the dreams in my mind.


But now they just echo,
Abandoned forever
Stranded in history, still incomplete;
Pictures of what might have been
Had their owner
Shown forth the courage their challenge to meet.


And though they are but
A mere arm's length behind me,
Never again may I visit them there;
The joys and the thrills
That once spoke potential
Are sealed off eternally, cloaked in despair.


Those honored locations
Where once I envisioned
Being the one that the world longed to see
All of those places
Now howl with aloneness,
Morbid museums of what used to be.


Now, when I dribble
On courts never sought for
Using what's left of a dream unfulfilled,
I strain to extract
A small bit of enjoyment
From a gift never opened and visions I killed.


Now, on strange asphalt,
The splash of string music
Still sings the sound that once caused me to dream;
I reach for a neighbor,
But I find only absence,
For here there is neither spectator nor team.


Alone do I practice,
With thoughts so much humbler;
No more does thought draw me forward in time;
Here are but memories,
All precious yet painful,
As hound dogs of history claim what was mine.


And when I spring skyward,
In pain do I labor,
Rising not nearly as high as before;
And though I persist,
I am vexed by the notion
That I'll be ever anchored whenever I soar.


If you are as I was,
So young yet so reckless,
Be not indifferent to what I must say;
Avoid life's entrapments;
Pay heed to this lesson,
That your current dreams will not billow away.


Be wise in the present,
Mind every lesson,
So later in life, you will not hurt inside;
Summon your courage
And block out distraction,
That you may reflect on today with great pride.


Seek out advice now,

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