When Every Day Was Magic

Softball GloveDo you remember when the world was yours and every day was magic?  

When you were ten and you studied every tree for climbing; 
when you walked to the creek and took off your shoes and socks 
    and you stood in the chilly water and felt it ripple over your ankles; 
when you played kick the can with the neighbor kids until past sundown 
and your mother called you in from the doorway? 

Do you remember when you were twelve 
   and you biked with your brother one Sunday to a deserted barn 
   and studied old beams and a rusty two bottom plow; 
when you played softball with just two bases 
   and you had a hand-me-down softball glove with cracked leather 
   and you caught a soaring pop-up fly right in the pocket; 
when you lay on your back on the uncut grass in April 
   and looked up at the white clouds? 
Do you remember when you were fourteen 
   and Sally teased you in study hall 
   and whispered secrets about Mr. Dansen, the biology teacher
while you looked at her eyes; 

when you learned that sunlight came from atomic fusion 
   and that there were male and female trees; 
when you got a summer job at the nursery 
   and came home scratched and sun burnt 
   and got your first paycheck? 
Do you remember when you were sixteen 
and you were going to be a scientist
and you knew you could see the whole world once you got your driver’s license;
when you held hands with your first real girlfriend, 

   and you talked so long you missed your next class? 
Do you remember when you went from new to new to new
and the world was yours and every day was magic? 

 

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