Forgotten Summers

At times,
I have grasped the stalk
and seedhead
of wild grasses,
on my journeys
through dew-marked spiderwebs
and the blueflowered chicory
that closes
when the sun is too hot,
and I have been
both old and young
at once,
remembering all the future times
I would look back
and regret
not savoring this long youth
just a little more.

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About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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