Wistful

I was not always a fool
There was a day – maybe more
That I was a blue-eyed boy
Who played in sandboxes
More easily managed than the one
That has now become a prison

There were days when sunshine
And moonbeams ruled the world in which
I lived and all of that kingdom’s subjects
Were happy and did not consider otherwise

There were songs
Whose words could only be sung in secret
And it was enough that I sung them alone
And rarely in the right key or meter

There were moments in stories
Read by wizards and witches
Whose only mission
Was to open the minds of the foolhardy
And troubadours and poets

I remember a day, a time
When the moon had just risen
And the sun was just beginning to set
And the wind blew in a melody
That no other soul had heard or sung
Or even attempted to understand

And for one brief second
It all made sense
It was enough
And in that instant
There was no hunger or worry or sorrow

And then, the wind departed
The sun set
And the moon moved behind a cloud
And did not return for an eternity’s evening

And I wondered
What just happened?
Did it matter?
And if so
Will anything
Ever matter to me
As much
Ever again

dg

7/19/20