Elijah

It’s a story of an eleven-year-old
He was sitting on the bench alone and cold
He looked at me, didn’t say a single word
I grabbed his left hand and we walked through the woods

His name’s Elijah, a full-time daydreamer
He asked me if I wanted to play basketball with him
I used to see him every day in the afternoon ever since
He said he was so afraid to play alone
and that his parents never cared, so he hated being home

Once he wanted to do slam dunk so bad
So I slang him over my shoulders, made him glad
and I carried him high off to the hoop
He held it tight and then slowly drooped

A few weeks later he came to me and said goodbye
He said, “Mama and Papa are moving out but I don’t know why.”
I gave him a 6-year-old football jersey of mine
He smiled, hugged me, and then cried

One day in a far off place we’ll meet again
Well, I might not recognise your face
’cause you grow up and I grow old
carrying the weight of the world
but until then, farewell my little friend

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