Lament (Part III)
When you get my age you tend to say “When I was your age . . ” quite a bit
so, let’s say for now, that once I was considerably younger. Can you believe it?
And in those far off halcyon days, of constant scabs on knuckles and knees,
I went through a phase when my one desire, my life, revolved around climbing trees.
I wonder now, what I saw in it all, why would I climb till the branch was too frail
to take my weight, though I spread my grip. Testing each handhold in case it should fail,
putting all my faith in anti-gravity. Feel the tree sway, feel the wind in my hair.
It was so important then. Now, who knows why? Unless it was just because they were there.
