How To Grow Backwards Poem by Sonny Rainshine

I wonder if only wild animals and children
experience the spontaneity, the ka-boom,
the rush of everyday living. And if so,
can I retrieve the gift, the youthful largesse
of joy unfiltered through the eyes of age?

O to be a curious puppy,
gallavanting around a suburban lawn,
chasing the children, calling to them
in dog-talk, arf-arf, bow-wow. Wow!
O to use archaic expressions like “O.”

It takes a lifetime, it would seem,
to mature from an adult to a child,
the exuberant depository of wisdom
and unconditional love.
One must have a good teacher,
a little boy or girl, or a puppy,
or a gentle old soul
who grows younger
each day in his old skin.