When I have trodden paths
With no regret,
I wish to take backward steps
To where I was a babe
Not knowing right and wrong.
Raising dust whiles I fling myself to the rhythms of the wind.
The paths where ideas felt easy and tangible.
And hard work didn't have so much clause as a cliche.
Oh days of black and white
These days I seem to be colour blind
I sense opaque and detest nudes.
Days that feels like the crest of a fountain has fallen
But giggling keeps spirit and soul together.
Days of hearty convos
Where the spirit of the words are not in acronyms.
I journey either to
Knowing that fro is what I had in mind
Stepping backwards so life can always be said to be in circles.