Cowboy Sailor - a poem

E. Valjean Redman
1941

Cowboy Sailor

By Donald G. Redman

I found an old black & white of you -

You’re about twenty best as I can tell -

Cocksure in your Navy blues,

Hands on hips like a fashion model,

Bell bottoms tucked loosely

Inside a pair of cowboy boots.

A style of rebellion, maybe

Or just showing off those leather beauts?

Curls peeking under the Dixie Cup;

Puffing wisdom from a Canadian pipe.

You look ridiculous in that getup

And yet somehow rakish, the archetype

Of all young men off to war before

Knowing the horror of war.

An image of you so far-flung

From the old man residing in my mind -

My father, so incredibly young

And brash and unconfined.

I sift through time for your words

Like an archaeologist sieving

Sand dunes for ancient potsherds

Words of dismay, still disbelieving

The ravages of the relentless clock.

Having glimpsed your own reflection

You told me of your outright shock

Of having aged without detection.

The mirror reflected an old man;

You said that was impossible

For inside lived a much younger man -

A man still vigorous and vital.

I agreed with the mirror’s projection;

Standing before me was not a man of youth

But a relic from an ancient generation

How could you be so blind to the truth?

You’ve been gone for many years now

And I watch silently as time adds

New lines to my face as with a plow,

Carving up my youth with an adze.

I hear anew your lamentations

Understanding now that you had no choice

But to succumb to the depredations

Of time without consent or a voice.

The old man still lives large within -

I love the old you, I truly do -

But age has cleared my mind’s vision

And I can see the cowboy sailor, too.

You there, young buck in the photo,

With your arms akimbo

Like a comic book hero,

Where o where did you go?

Copyright 2014 Donald G. Redman All Rights Reserved.