Oh how fine it might be,
But for a day or two,
To be an airling again;
Clean of conscience
Innocent of what hurts
I may have caused,
For I'd never yet then
Intended any of them.
Age is wisdom, true.
But it's also a tapestry of little guilts,
Amid still smaller expiations.
Categories:
expiations, childhood, introspection, life, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse