I Wish I Were Young, Again Poem by Morgan Michaels

I wish I were young again
with lotteries to win
when it was always Spring
and I could smell the exhaust
and hear the mower slay the grass
as I lay drowsing, the sound
borne in by the breeze that under the window
came chiding ''up, you scow,
there is nothing to do but everything
and time to do it, now'.
and, turning, exited
the way it came in, in.

I wish I was a kid again
my first kiss still eons off
little knowing yet
from whence it t'would come, or where;
unsure it would please, or how;
or if, when it finally came
would it linger or be brief-
ignorant that, once it did
under that dripping apple tree, come,
in a light rain, beneath the moon
I would spend the rest of life
seeking it again.

I wish I was young again
looking keenly ahead
waiting for heaven to rain riches
as, sooner or later, heaven would.
Everything still to come then
beat remembering
any and everything that had.
Oh, lovely expectation!
and life a toy with treasure very likely
sunk not deep beneath the soil-
knowing trusting the what-will-be
better than trusting the now.