Whispered Wanderings

But wait, do I actually remember?
Or has that younger age already been
relegated to the rest of my youth?
Lumped together into a made-up fantasy
of how much easier life was,
in some mystical, rose-tinted “then”?

Now balancing on the precipice of 62,
I marvel at the 40 years since and think about
how many times I wished my life away:
“I wish it was Friday!”
“I wish it was Summer!”
“I wish…”

I want to take them all back,
every single wish I ever made
about time, so I could have just
a little of it back. And if I could:

I would love a little more,
hate a little less. I would jump more,
and stand still less. I would…

I would.

klm
6/13/24