Tripping through memories
I go back
to the little boy
climbing trees
to escape
imaginary
pursuers.
Running
in the summer sun
following
the dirt road
back
when
a mile
seemed
to be forever.
Each day
would
lead
to
another
until
innocence
gave way
to
decaying
knowledge.
The darkness
of
night
would come
all
too soon.
(9-17-1976)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem