OnceA Poem by Michael of Gilead
To be young and run in the summer
Once, there was time when we ran though yards
Chasing the last light of a fading summer's day.
Heedless of where we were.
Filling glass jars with lighting bugs, on the quiet streets we played.
Playing flashlight tag and angel devil, rope ever spinning.
Cowboys and Indians, just like John Wayne
Once there was time to be a child, when war was just a game.
When hide and seek and next doors grapes began to ripen.When all of us were one, and games were just an excuse
© 2010 Michael of Gilead
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on August 13, 2010
Last Updated on August 13, 2010
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