Sunspots. ©-MFB III
Innocence was a place in which
the brightest of suns highlighted,
the blush of our youth
at its finest of moments,
Like dust motes that float oblivious
to the fall they are taking,
we swirled in dances of bliss,
at all the worlds wonders yet tried.
Remember the first taste of ice cream,
that frozen, sugary, orange pushup
that melted with delight
on our curious tongues,
or that first crescent of watermelon,
dribbling with juices down our chins,
plus many seeds we were allowed to spit out with glee.
Nothing to do but play all day, under warm beams,
offering endless discoverys.
A Nirvana that only lasted for a very short time.
Adulthood is a bit of a cloud,
that blocks the sun we cherished,
under the reigns of responsibilties
we all must undertake.
Although occassionally dads and moms
can be found reliving sunny days
by jumping in a colorful pile of
Autumn leaves with much jubilation,
or kicking rather large sneakers
sky high on swings long vacated
living vicariously through the tiny
copies of what they once were.
Old age is a blue moon hanging low
in the sky, creased with crevices,
as the sun light only reflects
what is passing into the darkness,
yet still grandparents revisit the
grander times with grandchildren,
bouncing them on their knees
as they giggle soprano eight notes,
retelling stories of the splendour of their youthful days,
many suns ago, when their own flesh was as smooth as a marble,
reflecting the glory of those moments tossed devil-may-care.
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