Zach

He’s just a boy from Pennsylvania,
below the Mason Dixon line to press fate and
make dreams or something.

He didn’t know his journey,
his voice, his smile, his gestures
would bring life into my heart
and make me a willing captive of his unintending charm.
He‘s left me awestruck. And I wish I could tell you why.

It was a pull unlike anything I’d ever experienced
when he fell into my life in the midst of a Carolina winter.
The poor guy knew nothing of anyone
or anything except for me and one or two others.
So he came back. And he came back again.
And it wasn’t long before I realized
minutes never seemed so short as they do in his presence
and it’s the moments not graced by his glow that are left in search of his light
and the rapture it is sure to bring.

It has often crossed my mind to ask
what it is that formed the hope that brought him here.
Was it their reflection he saw gazing back from his own chocolate eyes
on mornings that came to early?
Or perhaps it was the wind through his tousled hair that convinced him
there was no better place in the world than with them.
Either way, horses stole his soul in much the same way they stole mine,
and sent him here on a wave of destiny.
What a coincidence.

As the nickers die and gates are latched
the fading glow of a burning sphere ushers him in
to speak of love and God
over steaming cups of coffee. He talks of politics and music,
history, art, life. He doesn’t know that his words have brought me a new outlook
on the meaning of this spinning universe
and sent me striding toward the future hoping to embody the views that he has helped me to discover.
It is his knowledge and maturity that I was forced to dream of
until now.

He’s just a boy from Pennsylvania
and I cannot thank him enough
for what he doesn’t know he’s given.