The Man and the Boy, by Nicholas Ingalls

 

An un-caged yard, plain and simple.

A patio of dull concrete encircled in grass
Touches the end of what is his.
A man with wood piled high behind him.
 
A patio of dull concrete encircled in grass.
No wall to protect his land.
A man with wood piled high behind him,
A stairway to the clouds, a hammer in hand.

No wall to protect his land.
A boy unknowing of danger, at his side.
A stairway to the clouds, a hammer in one hand,
A box of nails in the other.

A boy unknowing of danger at his side,

His hair dark as a starless night.
A box of nails in one hand,
A toy hammer in the other.

His hair dark as a starless night

And stomach white as a clean slate.
A toy hammer filled out his hand
Making him feel powerful, helpful

A stomach white as a clean slate

The warm rays of sun dancing on his skin
Making him feel powerful, helpful.
Sweat pooling on the man’s shirt, staining black.
 
The warm rays of dancing on his skin
Standing by his father.
Making him feel powerful, helpful.
The boy aspiring to be the same.
 
Standing by his father,
He would grow up just like him.