You have slept too long through the hour of your youth...
You have slept too long through the hour
of your youth...
shake the cramp from your leg,
the slump from your winter
and roll like that boy
back through the years
over the damp morning grass.
Button up your collar,
go with a promise and a dollar
and breathe the aroma of memories
blown back from across the years...
its fresh cherub-cheeked flushness
And with a dream weaver,
sifting the remains of your life
from the coming year.
greet the boy you were
with the man you, now, have become
John Tansey's Other Poems
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