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Once Again

we'll break the red wagons we
rode, screaming down grassy hills,
cheap plastic wheels rolling across
urban streets

Again

We'll take spruce boughs and moss,
hide in the woods, watching droplets
of rain trickle down each others faces

Again

We'll race breakwater boulders, climb
into holes and etch silly odes of love
and hate that no one will read

Again

I'll regret ever wanting to grow older
again and again

Comments

Jo Devine-Acres said…
I really like this poem. You give voice to a universal adult feeling, and the repetition of the word 'again' speaks to the impossibility of again knowing only what children know. Thanks for sharing, Forrest.
May 29, 2009 at 5:45 PM
Unknown said…
AGAIN AND AGAIN MY SON
June 1, 2009 at 4:00 PM
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