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Time Traveler.

Updated on November 7, 2009


Time Traveler.




 I bury myself face first
in the gathered remnants

of another summer fallen.

Tumbling like a wayward leaf,
into the multi-colored
fragrance of yesterday.

What a heady aroma

assails me floating me

back to childhood days.

Black buckled boots
kicking their way
through six inches
of autumn on my 
path to school.

Scratchy like an

old man's beard,
your grandpas kiss,
and yet soft like 

a mother's caress
on a fevered brow.

I open my eyes
in a squint to savor,
the brilliant pastel
mosaic below me.

The crick-crackle of
this huge pile of leaves
sounds so much

like candy wrappers
at Halloween

which looms
just around the corner.

Several of my neighbors

gaze with amusement and
ponder the level of my sanity.
Their long abandoned youth
simply burns the debris
of what was and moves on.

But I feel so much 

like an eight year old,
as I snuggle in
this bed of the past,
sharing dreams

long forgotten.

Soon enough though I rise,

and rake the shedding

of the season
into black body bags
lined up in neat rows
for the Waste

management truck
that will come by
come mourn.


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