Rose-tinted Days

Written by: maggie brown

 Ah! For the sweet rose-tinted days

of endless spiraling time

when we bannister slid our way

to curving morning,

climbed through the rails

of adult strictures

out to own 


unmapped course.


Allowed mere whim and fancy rein

to take us galloping where it would.

Chance ruled our day --

a horseshoe found for fishing luck

from each springing hour,

or daisy chained to minute's

fickle ways,

a swing on branch, a fall, lost shoe,

direction changing clouds

chased out of view.


We shooed our way

through strewn meadows;

daytime moths danced on

our wrists.

The way home

was forgotten.