I saw the tracks, they were shiny, like new,
They glared in the sun, a type of silvery hue,
They traveled, past life’s points quite a few,
At the side of the track, I observed them and grew.
And I watched each local, and wondered out loud,
What occurred to segments of the varying crowd,
There were oldsters just milling, some humble, some proud,
Plus middle-agers, pushing, to succeed had they vowed.
And teenagers, directionless, but quite energetic,
Saying things that the seniors were calling heretic,
There were blacks, some lethargic, others quite kinetic,
Some PhDs. were espousing, that crime was genetic.
And whites, quite arrogant in their short range successes,
Puffing their positions, in power ties and dresses,
There were raiders, eventually making those messes,
Followed by economists, taking educated guesses.
And the immigrants, some working, others on the dole,
Misusing the system, our tax dollars taking the toll,
While their brothers labored, keen eyes on the goal,
Their opinions and dreams, not being sought in a poll.
But still I was missing, a most important view,
That being the point, as seen by the crew,
So I hopped aboard, as the railroad train drew,
Away from the station, life starting anew.
And an amazing thing happened, as I became part,
Of the crowds that I viewed, with my unreasonable art,
Of critiquing and faulting, sometimes without heart,
“Now I am them!” I exclaimed with a start.
I traveled through all the variety of life’s stages,
And was amazed at the effect, of God turning the pages,
Sometimes high, others low, I don’t know how one gauges,
The wide swings that appeared, they were simply outragess.
I finally realized it is easy to observe from afar,
To criticize and beleaguer, and reputations mar,
And find other’s lifestyles, are not quite on par,
With opinions of my own, tending to glow like a star.
But to realize the truth and seek out the good,
I found that each of us, must live in the hood,
Or walk in their shoes, as they say we all should,
Were we not quite so human, we certainly would.
We each have our faults, and our winning ways too,
As others do.
© Copyright – Waldo Tomosky