The Parade

i wrote this while at work yesterday while i was making deliveries.


i drove past a
parade today
and as they say,
everyone loves a parade.

It was an unassuming parade
in a school yard
various ages and sizes of tartan skirted
little girls, and red and brown haired freckled boys.

as i came down the street
i heard the rattle of the snare drum,
and the melody of the flute across
the grey day's breeze.

all in line the band played
while the baton twirlers and hoop throwers
plied their skill with streamers flying high

as i went by i could not help but smile.
driving back through the village, on my way back through
the band had stopped, the traffic lite was red and so
did I,
and the principal, or head mother was announcing
how proud the parents and teachers were
of every ones hard work and dedication

the lite turned green and I drove off thinking
how some of those children must feel right then

I remember back to those days, feeling
self conscious, embarrassed,
everything elevated to an utmost importance,
trying so hard to be older than you were.
and i wondered if any of them
felt the same way.

I wonder what will become of
the drummers, the flutists,
the marching girls

what does the future hold
for these brite eyes,
eyes which hold the glittering wealth and hope
of youth.
these hearts undimmed by the
sometimes heavy handed world of
grown ups

How bright will their futures be?

I drive away smiling because
they are so young, and have
yet to experience the many wonders of life,
to endure the many trials that will shape
and mold them.

I drive away smiling,
everyone loves a parade.
the bright colored uniforms,
the sound of the band,
the wide smiles for the crowds lining the
streets,
the laughter,
the memories of childhood

everyone loves a parade.