It was (or was it not?) just hours ago –
Our sandaled feet kicked up the poplar snow,
And it would rise in white puffs, and the breeze
Would carry it along, and we would sneeze,
And laugh, and play with what we thought was ours
For all eternity – a few short hours.
It is (or is it not?) a dream away –
That filled with June and promise, fun sun day,
Where we can touch the wind, and taste the air,
And be the way we were – without a care,
Free to reclaim what fleeting time can’t steal,
Where we can hope once more, and laugh, and heal.
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")
prompted by Poetic Asides