From Lizards to Headlights and Taillights

By |2018-10-16T13:26:41-05:00October 22nd, 2018|A Writer's Life, poetry, writing|1 Comment

Many years ago one of my grandsons lived next door. He was home-schooled and sometimes I helped with his homework.

Writing was his least favorite subject. Fast forward to his first year in college and he loves his creative writing class. He sends me links when the Southwest Baptist University newsletter publishes his work.

His most recent publication was a poem, which reminded me of another homework poem, one I’d helped him with years ago. That poem was about a lizard.

Lazy lizards leap from leaf to leaf

As green as a Sprite can

Lizards like to hide under the weather

Running, hiding, and sneaking around

Crazily, hastily, and hurriedly leaving their tails behind them

The miniature lizards are tiny compared to the big, blue sky

You can read about the do-your-homework challenge we had before he finally wrote the lizard poem here.

His newest poem is about seeing headlights and taillights as he journeys back and forth to college. I’ve copied it here, but you can also view it in the SBU Student Media Organization newsletter here.

As I drive down these roads

Each day, every night,

I look up, I look back, and

I see headlights and I see taillights

The taillights in front, the headlights behind

When they travel this life with me,

The headlights ahead and the taillights in back

When going to places I've already seen.

There might be a lesson here or there might be none,

But I do know behind each pair of lights is a someone.

He may be an old man with nothing but the past,

Or she may be a young girl nervous about class,

They could be a happy couple, but then again maybe not,

Or it might be somebody having the same thought.

Maybe they’re hurting, or maybe they're fine

Maybe they've given up or maybe they're still trying.

Will I ever know, and do I really even care?

Because what do I give them but the occasional stare?

Are they in need, and if so, why?

Could I help them, should I even try?

If they're as real and loved as I am, or maybe more,

Then why is it they're so easy to ignore?

Is it because I don't know them individually

But can only speak in generalities?

The answers to these questions I may never know

But I frequently ponder them as along these roads I go

And each day, and every night,

I look up, I look back, and I see headlights and I see taillights

Looks to me like we have a budding writer joining his multi-published father, Dr. J.B. Hixson, and his Nana.