Every year I live, growing
older, realizing what I
have yet to learn, recalling
earlier years with fondness:

I miss the innocence of
childhood, I long for the
summers of my youth….

Long-lasting days were filled
with tree-climbing, friends,
and riding our bikes.
Strenuous games of tag,
rounds of epic hide an’ seek.
Creating stories to play
out with our toys: Pound Puppies,
My Little Ponies, Beanie Babies….
Hours lost in play without a care.

Warm summer nights, no
rules, sleepovers and staying up late.
Gathering with our families around
giant, crackling bonfires,
making s’mores til midnight,
filling jars with lightning bugs.

Simple pleasures fueling
childhood joy.
Reality was whatever we wanted.
Life was full and happy;
we were indomitable.
In childhood, we dreamed of bright
futures and where we would go,
the dreams we would reach….

Only twenty years later, and
I barely recognize my reflection.
Happiness and innocence
bowed to tragedy and
responsibility even as
childhood yielded to adulthood.

Long since, my hair began to
grey, calluses formed (both
figurative and literal).
Now fine lines make their
entrance, mirroring those
of heart and soul upon
face and hands.

Such is the wear and
tear of life upon this state of
humanity, of time upon
mortality.

Responsibilities now weigh as
age keeps encroaching.
In adulthood, I remember the
joy of innocence, yearning to
return to a time, a place,
where dreams could come true.
Reality proved harsh and
unexpected; life
is mundane,
and I feel
empty

Note: Lack of ending punctuation is intentional.

Far from my best, but this has wanted out these past several days that I’ve been wallowing in the mire of my funk.