He was afraid,
of a life less lived,
of not dying young but starting old,
of not a lack of warmth but an excess of cold.

He was afraid,
of a youth misspent,
on a chair thinking of ages to come,
and by their arrival having become numb.

He was afraid,
of a smile unseen,
of a chance of happiness whizzing by,
for he had missed the look in her eye.

He was afraid,
of hurting something so small,
of crushing those toes which were learning to crawl,
of not being there when it was about to fall.

He was afraid,
of being wrong,
subject to ridicule without restrain,
of being called a humble brain.

He was afraid,
of doing nothing,
of living life without making a dent,
of dying with aspirations unspent.

He was not afraid,
of being afraid,
for at least in that he couldn’t be alone,
he had his fears, surely everyone has their own?


3 thoughts on “Dauntless

  1. Nice lines…the feeling well expressed… 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is brilliant. Love the play of words

    Liked by 1 person

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