To be innocent again
fresh as a fist full of cool winter sand,
when fingers were clenched and the feel of milky way grain did slip away,
When peppermint treasure came from a wood covered cave, past heavy door
when sherry scent and grey smoke formed comforting cloak
when I rode a giants shoulders and listened for fern cones falling,
upon which, my father did roam.
When happiness was a honey spoon or vegetable patch hole
minds eye lost
day dreamers soul.
When brook and stream were there to be dammed
mud to be held
by innocent hand.
Soldiers commanded behind cork wine wall
a windows ledge
they did so fall.
Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.