There was a time when you weren’t real
Our dreams and lives apart.
At twelve you moved next door to me
And roped my wild heart.
We dreamt and planned our future lives
Of kids and jobs we talked.
When high school ended, then I left
Two different paths we walked.
Divorce and drugs plagued my life
You found me as a mess.
You held my scars, embraced my pain
My war wounds did you dress.
After sixteen years, we have a life
that we could not have planned.
We are not rich, but made six kids
You're the anchor for this old man.
If we never get to live the dreams
Of our youthful days,
At least we have the longest love
Guiding us on the way.
About the Creator
Robert Haynes
I am a veteran, a military spouse, and the father of eight children. I own and operate a writing/editing business, and I focus primarily on writing poetry and creative nonfiction for my personal writing. Recovering word-nerd.
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