For Days To Come Gone By

November 19, 2014


My feet in the sky,
My head in the sand.
It’s all about
Supplying demand.

Snow like Summer,
Snow like Winter,
Sun, like sons and daughters,
Swoop like playground swing.

The smell of crayon buckets,
Wax -fabric of a dream.
Blue and grey, they made a way-
Face to a shapeless scream.

A wrinkle of the forehead,
Confused in innocence.
Peter piper picked a peck,
Me? I pick suspense.

Innocence inverted
Once impressed,
Now impressing.
Purity subverted,
Still, experience,
A blessing.

Melted radios teaching us
To obey our dad,
Soda-bottled water, thirst
Ah, good times we had.

Some nights I sit up praying,
Some nights I lay and cry,
At the memory of a younger me,
For days to come gone-by.


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