Cool Winter Sand

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,

slowly.

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,

falling

onto paths

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.

10 thoughts on “Cool Winter Sand

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