The Adventurer

A kid in the back of an old Chevy truck
Stares out in wonder to a world he calls "Up"
Over the hills and down winding, steep roads
His imagination takes flight and away it goes

Behind sea green eyes blaze a trail of places
With old, ragged cowboys and rodeo clown faces
In towns with odd names that never found it to maps
Where adventure beckons on past the brims of old hats

A kite and a key on a dark, dark, dark night
A first apprentice to the first brothers on the first manned plane flight
Up, up and away in a hot air balloon
Touching down and taking step one onto the moon

One small step for man, a giant leap, there he goes
Balancing the ever growing length of Pinnochio's nose
"Walk the plank!" on a pirate ship of a pirate most feared
That now our young hero has bravely commandeered

Traversing rock after rock through a Hawaiian lava flow
Dodging great boulders and rapids while navigating the Colorado
Whizzing down a mountain on a bike nicknamed "Chance"
Commanding a triumphant victory at the Tour de France

In a wagon headed west down the Oregon trail
Riding shotgun with the Pony Express delivering mail
Miles and miles ridden, but no time to slow down
Because tomorrow the great World's Fair comes to town

A sudden blast from that old Chevy's horn
Brings him back from the place where imagination is born
Back to the bed of that old pickup truck
Back from an 8 second ride on an old bronking buck

The old Chevy truck turns onto a worn out old road
Worn out and tired, the boy is glad to be home
Adventuring all day is a serious undertaking
When one is to become a great adventurer in the making

Laying his head on his pillow, he closes his eyes
Eager for a new adventure surprise
As he drifts into dream town, the day comes to an end
And in the morning the adventure starts all over again

Shoes

Through darkened streets on lamp lit paths
My pulse begins to race
Seven years I've wearily wandered this path
And have yet to see one single face

Not one pair of eyes, nor hair, nor smiles
What they wear I haven't a clue
But I unmistakably recognize character
As I pass by people's shoes

The untied shoes of youngsters
That skip past me without care
To the boots of a construction worker
Working diligently for his fair share

High-heeled stilettos and stylish flats
Pass me by on their way home from here and there
Quickened paces and trudging steps I hear
But look up, I do not dare

I recognize color, pattern and style
Whether worn out or brand new
But to recognize you any other way
I simply cannot do

Looking up is a frightening thought
For I never know who or what I might face
Judgment, ridicule, scorn, or cruelty
As your look tells me I don't belong in this place

So I dart through shadows, blend into walls
Become invisible to those all around
And I concentrate solely on what you wear
On your feet as my eyes meet the ground

The musician on the corner in loafers
Playing his heart out for a few dollars more
To the cop with his black belted boots
Who, for me, kindly holds open a door

To the weary mother of three
Whose white tennis shoes are worn straight through
But she'll gladly work every shift she can get
To keep her kids under a warm, dry roof

Stories crowd these busy streets
As each footstep tells a tale
Of struggle and strife and victory
When the struggling overcomer prevails

Another day, another dark street
Envelopes me safely once again
As I go unnoticed in shadowy silence
Observing quietly from within

I feel the weight of your stressful days
As you work to pay your dues
It's amazing what you can learn about someone
By just looking at their shoes