Cotton Candy By The Lane

Can we go back?

To when we hopped around

In cotton frocks

With our hands sticky

From the peanut butter

Off the toasted bread;

To the little park

With two swings, and a slide

And overgrown grass,

That we skimmed off to

When the sky would blush;

To the little pool

Full of giggles and neon tubes;

To the lane

That sold cotton candy

In blues and purples

Along with pink;

To the little corner

That saw Picasso and Da Vinci

As well as mistakes;

To the kitchen slab

That took a stool to reach

The tasting jury

Of spices and salt;

To those pots of earth

With money plants

That didn’t grow money,

And roses and cactus,

And plants with leaves loved

And names unknown;

To the curtains

That shielded from horrors

In tapes and screens;

To the cycle

With the white basket

And a ring;

To mornings

Which started with

Snatching the blankets

Off the sibling;

And to nights

That ended with

Climbing in between

Maman and Pupah

At eleven in the night;

Can we go back?

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