Someone posted a thought-provoking account a while ago, involving something that happened in the middle of a lake somewhere. So the poet's hat when on, I came up with the following:
MIDDLE of the LAKE
The new life started with its hopes and its joys,
With aspirations and dreams for our little boys,
As they learned, and they grew, and they played with their toys,
Their laughter and voices were the happiest noise.
Then we reached the middle of the lake,
Where the start seemed so far and the dock seemed so small,
And we wondered at times how we'd cope with it all,
Oft tired, oft helpless, in the middle of the lake.
Our young boys grew, and men they became,
Independence asserted, free to navigate,
We watched them struggle in the currents of life,
Praying spectators, in the middle of the lake.
They tell us now they watched, as we grew and overcame,
Worried that age might snare and overtake,
Funny how the shoreline is never quite the same,
Seen through others eyes, not the middle of the lake.
It's not much of a poem, but most parents of grown children will be able to relate.