The little boy dreams of
meeting the moon, exploring the earth, and befriending a baboon
The old man smiles at him and dreams of
Past memories
Past loves and
Past opportunities ("these darn kids don't know how lucky they are")
For we are born into a sea of endless potential
But most days are droughts and only some days have rain, leaving the water to eventually dry up
And leaving the shriveled salt of past dreams (of moons and baboons) left over on the dirt
Forgotten and bitter