When September Goes(DHR)_ POTD
From a wheatfield's tapestry
I embrace again my childlike wanderings...
a time I deeply remember
when I played without restraint...
our murmurs still squeaking with every
rhythm of past rougish pleasures:
Swooping into a time tunnel
and chasing late summer leaves;
I am still in awe of duskfall's wild hunts...
those bouncy trails of recklessness
mirroring my youth's enthusiasm.
How we fought gothic pirates untold
across a tousled upland,
then down again through muddy creeks
and grass alike, slingshots whacking
the likes of Captain Hook;
As four gang mates of the Lost Boys roar
'The Pan is with us', and Tiger Lily too;
embarking yet on another episode
till my pals and I invade a shipwreck trap.
~
It is late September again...I reminisce
about this raucous ritual of wild carousals
where I would throw fear to the winds,
where my soul dares the invincible...
my imaginary friends and I walking on air,
designing unbridled fancy against real time:
My dream-like squad is somehow gone
lost in the slings of innocence...
that age of pubescence can be cruel, rude
that treacherous moment when
our wheatfield grows old with me...
Now I gently sob and smile...and yet,
that tableu of shimmering gaiety
still enriches my inner child--
with untamed, Pan- like curiosity.
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