Indian Boy

I listen to your heartbeat slow as you dream on.

I do not speak, never do I speak. Early I found that silence, and if I did find my voice, would you even hear me? Instead I sit by your side, as I ever have, and plead, silently.

As I have grown, I’ve seen you are a whimsical child, selfish in desire, straying from your true path.

Whose parent are you? You shun responsibilities, though you chide him about neglecting them with fierce spirit. The seasons are withering without you, please listen as I do. You cannot dance in revels forever.

When you wish it, I see you as who you can be. You, who have been everything to me: nurturer, protector, kindness itself, why will you sleep on; petty in your teasing of him.

I’ll leave you to slumber now, but think on this; did you hear my heart beat also? I will go find my place among the flowers and your followers.

I see him, slipping close, bent on mischief. I should turn and speak, but I don’t; maybe you both will learn from this. Maybe the music will wake you.

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