My memory of time catches my eye around corners, forgotten in places where dust collects, where I found innocence.
Was I ever bereft of compassion? Or is it guile, just kids on a gymnasium floor throwing a sun-sized red ball, aiming for black boxes and for the kill. Are we still so cruel?
Hit hard and by surprise, I’m startled awake to find I’m still a child. With more future behind me than past, like the flavor of bubble gum, today never lasts.
Breathing thoughtlessly of my heart as it beats on, and on sympathy alone. I flee from fright as I fly away using only the wax wings of my will.
Hope becomes weary with age. Like a favorite pair of shoes, old and full of holes, bereft of usefulness. Yet my path is worn into their sole’s memory —
Now I’ve long forgotten my way. Yet those battered boots hold me and lead me safely home.