I’m on fire
A snapshot of a thick summer night
Yellow pine frames dusk-dark glass,
heavy air meandering through the screens.
Mom cleans to the beat of The Boss,
and I help by not impeding:
floating from room to room,
capricious in the freedom of summer.
I dance to Bruce, I dance till I drop
Limbs spread, a star in a sea of carpet
Sprawled on the floor, I am light as air
I am light.
I am air.
A common misconception:
Childhood is not perpetual happiness;
it is the absence of despondency.
And if you’ve never felt sorrow, every moment is perfection.
But a candle’s flame only lights the room after dark.