still life as a child
In dreams of bright, translucent tangerine.
Rubbery smiles evaporating sanguine.
The mist of memory gradually dissipates.
Into a veiled room out of sight.
Talk about smoke and mirrors!
These moments will soon disappear discreetly.
With a chipper nod, and a polite wave.
It’s purpose served, languished to black.
Reeking of hollowed Earth, and lost time.
Fair children of a vanished era.
Remember when the day came
ripe with a fat apple in it’s gay mouth.
Where we all were overjoyed by the mere
wooden fortress, tire swing, set of broken crayons.
Before we shed our illusion’s safe cocoon
The friends we loved,
and laughed, and played with.
Sentimental and eternal it felt.
Was this the apotheosis of happiness?
The ghost in me often wondered…