When I look at him
I try to remember
to see the little boy I used to know.
I scrutinize pictures
from before
for signs of commonality.
Is it still him? If not,
where did that boy go
that quirky kid
marching to his own drumbeat
the joyful smile of a young man
arms thrown haphazardly around the neck of a beloved dog.
was it joy or a steel trap on pain
I squint, wanting to see something
something that tells me the same boy I always loved
continues to live behind the smiling eyes I see now
under the skin
in the aura of the arms that embrace me
