THE THIEF

The old man stood on soil he'd known
He'd come to fill a vow,
And see once more the hallowed land
The land he used to plow.

The farm had been abandoned
I watched his thoughts unfold,
In eyes that dampened in the wind
Of late December cold.

His old home although standing
Was sagging with decay,
Surrounded by intrusive growth,
Where children used to play.

Children that grew up too fast
Their laughter, too soon gone
Have children, and their children
Have children of their own.

Fifty years, he shook his head
In solemn disbelief.
I sensed what he was thinking
Time is such a thief.

He slowly turned, to look once more
Snow was falling now
And spread a shroud upon the land
The land he used to plow..