Through

I can see you through the knothole
Playing behind the fence,
But what a great big world you're missing.
Of the pain and agony of war you do not know,
And the joy of freedom you can only guess.
Your world is the sandbox and the jungle gym,
And your innocence is enviable.

I can see you through the chain link screen,
Playing baseball behind the backstop,
And what a great big outfield before you.
You can be anything you want to be.
Your idols are doctors, lawyers, and policemen.
So you take the pitches as they come,
And your choices are so limitless.

I can see you through the plate glass window,
Playing student in the classroom,
Giving direction to your teenage life.
Decisions to make and deadlines to meet,
And rules to break and friends to greet.
Life leaves you hanging in doubt and hesitation,
And your attitudes are so rebellious.

I can see you through the one-way mirror,
Standing in front of the scale.
Finger-printing and posting bail
Are routines you are not accustomed to.
Who will you dial with your single phone call?
You have decisions to make in hallowed halls,
And your innocence is questionable.

I can see you through the spaces between the iron,
Playing cards behind the bars.
But what a small world you are locked into.
Of the pain and agony of prison you have a clue,
But of the joy of freedom you can only guess.
Your enemies are doctors, lawyers, and policemen,
And your choices are so limited.

I can see you through my tearful eyes
Lying in the open casket,
But what a great big world you left behind.
You could have been anything you wanted to.
So you took the pitches as they came,
And life left you hanging in doubt and hesitation,
And judgment of your innocence is out of our hands.

© Eric R. Eaton, circa 1981