Glory Days Poem by Bryan Taplits

The glory days travel in haste-
An engorging serendipity choice,
Back to them one often goes
When seeking to rejoice.
He burns for them and yearns for them
The precipice of past life,
Each memory sees him through
The sturm and drang of life.
All made him what he is today-
Good fortune and squalled strife,
And though he knows (and sought them so)
The gimlets poke at him-
And sear him like a knife.
As seeds in soil they root then bloom-
Whisking of each hazy dream,
Images like predatory Cupids
But still he covets and sways-
as in song-
To each needful and bittersweet scene.