Once he was mine, but now I find a door Between our lives; I never dare intrude Into that room which is an interlude Between the Youth and Man. His sacred lore -- Some pirate escapade, an airplane jaunt Across all seven seas, a tiger chase, A new-found Island with soft-spoken race -- This world of thought is his; his secret haunt. Let me speak softly lest some word may jar The fragile walls of this lad's precious world; Here are his battles won, his flags unfurled; From here he scans the heavens for his star. Let me tread softly, sparing errant dreams; They may be more enduring than it seems. |