White picket fence…


I remember chasing butterflies around the backyard.
I remember the red, silk coat reaching upto my knee.
I remember being young, not a care in the world.
I remember wanting never to leave.

I can still feel the dew sliding off the grass,
Trickling down, tickling my senses,
Dawn, on the verge of tiptoeing into the threshold of my humble abode,
The sun waiting to peek through my drapes.

Not a morning dreaded, never a single night unsettled,
Not a day seemingly aimless, never a juvenile dream unkempt.
Every fantasy leading up to a momentous milestone,
Not a single ambition too trivial to conceive.

I remember those times like it was yesterday,
The wind slipping through my fingers,
The vibrant specks dancing to the tunes of the breeze,
How gratified the familiarity of my doorsteps made me feel.

I remember everything, every feeling, every sensation,
Still in my mind like a reel of photographs,
My life within the boundaries of my white picket fence,
Dreaming of the safety and freedom I knew I’d never find elsewhere.



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