Cowboys and Indians.
He played cowboys and indians
in the dirt
smiling a peanut butter smile
and fearing nothing.
He was indestructible
and young
and thought that pain
was for other people.
Death and dying
had no meaning for him
as he navigated a world
filled with little green plastic soldiers
marching to a beat
only he knew.
The old man
remembered the little boy.
He knew that the wisdom of youth
was lost in the knowledge of pain
and the forest filled with dying leaves
that deteriorated on the ground
like ancient animals
littering a landscape that became
more desolate over time.
Would the new growth of the forest
find a place in the world?
Would his bones become a part of it?
Old men think of things
that young boys never do.
Old men wonder whether their young souls
will come back as old souls.
Old men die
and no one knows if they return. 
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