i'd love to sit and reminisce, but my friends are never home.

i remember summer days

when we’d press flowers

between wax pages, and

find ways to scale a

six foot tall picket fence.

how many meters is that?

that’s something you would know

now that the sun has set

on summers and the 

color has faded from our

memories. 

i remember—

we used to chase each other

through what we thought

were miles

of woods, a 

valiant knight and a princess,

(always a princess),

killing or befriending dragons—

depending on the day.

i guess we’ve traded in 

our stick-swords for

something we thought 

would be better. 

truth be told, i’m not 

sure it was the best 

decision—

but they do say we

didn’t have a choice.