When I glance today, I can bask in a vague

recall of those times, young love, innocence

weren’t we all some time wanting the drag

of hours, minutes, years to give chance …

~

the streets are the same, rows of maple

I do have to try hard to remember just how

exacting my life had become in the pull

of finding myself, my world. When I think now

~

this place is where everything began then,

first loves, first loss, first reminders always

of just why our lives matter, our roots again

tell a novel ending to what began one day.

~

When we were children, then, we imagined a sunrise

we didn’t think, then, about ever a need to be wise.