Patience

He stood there longer than any thought possible
Watching them play, watching them grow, watching them live
Certainly they knew he was there
But did they ever really take notice of him?
Sometimes he was the center of their play
Although he was completely passive
How could he have initiated anything?
He passed many hours alone-
Crystal-coated fingers, dressed in white
Yet naked and subject completely to the forces that battered him
He withstood it well enough
And it didn’t last forever
He could appear quite sinister, although not intentionally,
If the hour were late
Or the weather were stormy
From behind the window the children might become frightened
Completely forgetting that it was only he
But he was no monster-
Many little friends flocked to him
He could consider almost everyone little
And as the years went by and the children grew
Until they were children no longer
He saw less and less of them
He had seen it all before
Perhaps more would come
Perhaps not
He would always have some companions
And for a long, long time to come he would remain
A proud patriarch
On a carpet of green,
Of white,
Of red and gold.