Glory Days

I wish I could tell you of the

wind and the way it was blowing today,

hair all over your face,

just the way you like it.

I wish I could take the water droplets

from the sprinklers we used to play in

and splash them again into your face,

just to hear the hysterical laughter

of our younger days.

I wish I could haul back the hours

with a rope through time

to a trampoline in July,

when we threw ourselves up into the air

and tomorrow was just another today

and life was nothing but a wild leap;

we came crashing down into

the future,

back up again,

always jumping,

your face the one constant

in a moving rush of air,

until childhood,

without our knowing,

slipped quietly over the horizon,

and into our scrapbooks.

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