The Quiet Green

The Quiet Green
The world was smaller then,
and lighter—
my youth making me oblivious
to pressure.
 
Barefoot again,
and translated back
to when I was younger.
 
Moments unfolding before me,
and I without a clue
what a treasure those times were.
 
Soaking it in now
as if my soul was starving
to find this feeling once more.
 
The grass is softer here,
or maybe I’ve forgotten
how to feel it.
 
It slips between my toes
like it used to—
cool, forgiving,
familiar in a way nothing else is.
 
Smells of honeysuckle in the air,
with hints of dew, blankets of morning glorys fill the garden, the innocence of it all so profound now.
 
Clinging gently to each step
like the day has just begun for me.
 
I don’t rush across it.
I wander.
 
Step, pause… step again,
like there is nowhere I need to be.
 
I press my feet down deeper,
as if I might step back into it—
those days.
 
These moments are to be remembered.
 
I take a slow walk through my mind,
bringing these little treasures
with me.
 
Then I open my eyes,
and take comfort
in the deep sigh
of such beautiful recollection.
 
For this,
I am thankful.