Memoirs Of A Youth Poem by Michael P. Johnson

He felt he was a special child
Before the age of ten
A little shy a little wild
Quite naughty now and then

He always knew that God was real
Sensations though were rare
So slight and yet he’d often feel
That something else was there

He felt no place He could belong
No town he felt to stay
He knew when things were right and wrong
But how he couldn’t say

He’d heard the gospels as a youth
Received the bread and wine
Was not quite sure about The Truth
And thought five years were fine

He gave no thought that he would die
He had no fear to go
He’d often dream that he could fly
Above his every foe

He’d wave his hands an inch or two
With arms held by his side
Then with his mind away he flew
Securely to hide

When old and grey his heart was glad
He found his Master’s hand
Though most of life he’d felt so sad
He learned to understand

This story’s true I’ve had to tell
The world these facts may see
I know each detail very well
Because they speak of me!