… I AM

Long ago there lived a boy,
for whom music and stories gave so much joy.
At school children gathered to hear what he would say.
with tales he enticed classmates away from their play.

During a rare second of childish reflection.
a random thought emerged for his detection.

Who am I? the precocious youngster inquired.
In a child’s mind such abstractions are easily mired.
This serious inquiry required a little convalescence,
making way for the enormous challenges of adolescence.

No longer a boy, not yet a man,
a love of words took root in his life’s plan.
In him tales felt like music, they could dance,
only with those closest dared he share this romance.

An innate inclination for pondering why,
beckoned the unanswered question, “Who am I?”
As swiftly as it appears does adolescence fade,
even for adults such questions are not easily weighed.

A man with family, responsibilities profound,
the comfort stories offered was a haven safe and sound.
Evenings his children came close to be near,
his stories nurtured the imaginations of each child’s ear.

How he treasured those moments suspended in time,
at ease in his world of verse, story and rhyme.
There are things in life that only time may achieve,
like an uninvited guest the riddle refused to leave.

Who am I? he thought as a crowd gathered round.
They had heard rumors of enchanting tales and sound.
For these listeners he would tell tales, talk and sing.
An epiphany revealed a common string.

In an instant of clarity it was made abundantly clear.
the answer that had eluded him year after year.
Someone shouted, “Who are you?” and he laughed.
Finally, he had unearthed the path to his life’s craft.

Delivered with confidence like an age-old telegram.
he smiled and said simply, “A Storyteller I Am.”