in my backyard once


amid tangerine scented trees,


with the sunlight softened air


and the broken playground silence


i was 5, and you were too,


and summer never lasted longer.


anything was everything,


and everything was beautiful


and, to a child's eyes,


nothing was what it was meant to be.


i carried you to the moon in a wheelbarrow,


and you fixed my broken arm


with sand and water


and bits of broken hose.





scents of autumn, leaves of change,


and you and i are 12.


summer shortened to a breath,


and time between games became


ages.


stars would twinkle on arabian nights,


but it felt like years before we


felt the flutter.


but you still smile,


in a virtual blur,


aging as i watch.





winter freezeblinked and passed by


and Christmas was spent


in different counties.


i got you a card, and


you sent me pictures of your cat


dressed as santa.


i never sent the card.


but you came to get it, anyway.





spring sees rust on the junkyard


of the friendship we once had.


i watched you get married,


but you'll miss mine.


scraps of classic times and flat tires


that keep us from driving to see each other,


and we're in different points on seperate timelines


in different worlds.





time has the capacity to heal wounds


but it mostly just rips them wider.


i still smile at the old days,


but it's mostly pain that sways my smile to tears


when i think that i may never be where we were.


tangerine scented trees and


imagination that took us to the moon and back,


and you and i and me and you and


summers that never ended.

07/10/2006

Posted on 07/10/2006
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Michael