Carried Away
Poetry Sunday
The door opened, I saw my years running back.
A little walnut, still brown and hard, rested
on my hearth. Days of laughing childhood,
transient but fresh, joined the run.
Tiny promises, tiny dreams, tiny wishes,
and tiny nothings lost in a wilderness.
Little joys packed in hard shells, lived in
hiding. Treasure boxes locked in promises
never to be found again. Spring matured
to autumn, the leaves turned red. I stood
on the shore watching the white surf
carry my childhood away.
The child in me, wizened now, watched
a life unfold. For life is a color, one from
the sun, that spreads a golden glow.
The bountiful joys of getting older, of
days spent in longing and laughing,
remained unmatched. The wondrous little
walnut, still on my hearth, nested a
promise. Two baby leaves, fragile,
vulnerable, and loving, cracked
through crusty black ground.
And I watched the earth crumble.
A sapling emerged.
