To My Brother

The words that echoed through our homes
("we've just now started playing!")
Would have weighed a lifetime-
not momentary staying.
And catching bats, and midnight romps,
and stars that traded place
Would have set the tone for us
of friendship through this race.

It would have meant support for us,
as each cheered on the other,
Instead of silent distance,
we'd both still have our brother.
Tears would have been halved by friendship
as love replaced longing.
Joys could have more than doubled if
loneliness were belonging.

Reality set different paths
(reality not fate)
And placed us on far different roads
and told us "it's too late."
If it were fate it could not change,
but reality is clay,
If we begin to want the other
again to come and play.

As each desires the simpler times
when masks were never worn;
As we set aside agendas
perhaps friendship could be born.
Not returning to our childhood,
for that can never be,
but finding in the ashes
that long forgotten key.

And maybe-just perhaps-
we might unlock each other,
And set ourselves toward freedom
as we restore our brother.
to leave our sperate prisons,
and finally move ahead;
To leave behind our painfull pasts
as some poor book we've read.

And though I see a goal out there,
it lies beyond my grasp.
Perhaps with two the door will move
despite the rusted hasp.
And so, with all I've said before
I've one thing yet to say.
Hoping again to be brothers,
"would you come out and play?"

Neil Roth

Email: spellsong@hotmail.com