Clay

It was a different time then. Richer ink in a quality pen. The pace was slower, expectations lower and time seemed to expand, to accommodate our purpose. Life was a circus, at our command. We were ringmaster, gymnast and clown, Lord of the Dance and we chased the day down. The streets were ours, The nights to explore. We knew nothing of politics, famine or war. Cloistered, cocooned in childhood's carapace, dreaming of Indians and creatures from space. We were inviolate, urchins, searching for we knew not what, but, what we got was worth more than gold and, truth be told, it made me what I am.