Lately I’ve been thinking of elementary school.
When I flip back through my memories
and shake down my brain for stories to tell,
everything seems perfect.
A faint haze distorting the figures
And blurring their edges.
I miss the feeling of a swing set.
Legs pumping—forward back forward back
Higher into the air,
Closer to the clouds,
Further from any worry.
I miss running around playgrounds.
Legs pumping—faster and faster and faster and
Tagging my friends,
Finding the best hiding spots,
Winning a race.
Things feel so different now.
My thoughts are heavier,
My legs creak
I can’t stop thinking about being little again.