Remember when the moon
was a silver coin,
tossed into the night
by a generous hand?
We traded laughter,
like currency at a
bazaar of boundless
possibilities and knew
mistakes weren’t as heavy
as these bricks we’ve
chosen to stack around
ourselves as if to build
prisons out of mortgage,
utility bills and rusted
knees. How easy it was
to believe in dragons,
and the way a puddle
could be an ocean.
Now we worry over
the smallest of things.
Forget the balance sheet;
remember the art of
spinning without a care,
becoming dizzy with
delight. Find the child
who whispers in dreams,
guiding you back to
days of wonder and sky,
to a world where even
shoelaces become tails
for flying comets—life
soaked in sun, uncluttered
by the weight of hours.