Growth

Dusty toes kicking up dreams

of days gone past

when dreams were caught

so easily;

unashamedly

in jam jars sealed with

waxy innocence.

When the grass rots

fleetingly

and hedgerows surpass your eyeline

gardeners delve into the ditches of

gluttony

and gas inflated egos.

Clouds shape into the visions of the future

rabbits yielding machetes

and smiling terror

tracing silhouettes of your voice

on the palm of my hand

silver rings hugging

the fears of disloyal teddy bears.

Glass shatters

so sporadically

on the wings of horseflies

and the points of nettles

Tears are spilled with the sting

of torn knees.

Time destroys youth

Such simplicity gripped by the big hand

and smashed by the little

We grow up

and the magic dies-

logically.