Rhythmic Stories January 2, 2023

Youths Door

I was a young girl then
running hillsides back when

inhaling the clean airs summer breeze
hanging upside down in a blackjack tree

laughter floating heavenward
mama smiles when it’s heard

no thoughts of creaking knees
Too busy watching bumble bees

No hitch in your walk. It was straight
dangling off the Iron bridge by grandad’s gate

I can’t pinpoint when life detoured
perhaps after my ladder fall, It was incurred

Now I’m majoring in physical therapy
Life isn’t what I expected it to be

Still, I push forward to days of unknown
most days thinking of seeds formerly sown

Youth is the prize, and you better grab tight
age rushes past and turns on a different light

Oh, to be that young girl again
I would still run my hillside glen

I want some more
open Youths door

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