Three SunSpots.

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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