Had a friend in high school, Will;

He’d fix old beat up cars.

His eyes glazed with the promise he saw

Underneath their scars.

I thought Will was nuts

Wasting time on all that crap.

I saw broken headlights

And a dented pile of scrap.

He’d just laugh at me

Like I’d missed some inside joke.

But my eyes glazed with boredom

As in reverent tones he spoke.

He said each car told a story;

It was like a broken heart.

With a little time and patience,

There weren’t many Will couldn’t start.

Never thought about Will

All that much after high school.

Suppose he bought a body shop;

I hope his life is cool.

At eighteen he was smarter

Than I’ll be at eighty-three.

He looked past all that was

And saw all that could be.

It took a lot of years and tears for me to learn that trick.

Don't know how Will hung with anybody quite so thick.

I hope now he’d laugh with me, glad I finally got the joke.

So much beauty and perfection in what others see as broke.

I don’t want a new car;

Give me one with lots of miles.

One that’s been banged up enough

To even make Will smile.

Because me -- I’m an old truck

That was once falling apart.

But with a little love and patience

Even I made a new start.

We’ve all got a story,

And most tell of broken hearts.

But with patience like Will had,

Love can give us all new starts.

Where there is a Will -- well,

There really is a way.

And if you won’t believe it now...

Hope you meet Will someday.