When growing up,
the world held simple magic:
Cold milk and cookies, games of hide and seek;
Days were less common, mostly – unique,
And lovely things were easy to imagine!
Sweet summer nights, smells of the waking pier,
Vacation trips to faraway old lands…
Life seemed at play – a wave without end;
But at some point, that wave has disappeared.
So many shattered, broken dreams and thoughts;
So many days passed in the useless linger…
No words can help, no tears – friendly stingers,
Can suffocate regret, that nightly plots.
Still, magic’s at my very fingertips,
It comes to play when no one sticks around:
Just two of us, by a strange commitment bound,
Enhancing life by making rhyming trips,
With life’s own magic at my very fingertips.
02/16/13
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