When We Were All Younger

In memory of a neighbor

The breeze is slight as it dances
Between the limbs of the tree in my grandfather’s yard
Which is filled by the leaves of summer
The same tree that I had ascended numerous times
My appendages molesting the bark
That still covers the tree to this very day
A trivial detail of my childhood
But I remember it all the same

Before me stood two men �" of age and of wisdom
One of which I hold a level of admiration for:
My grandfather
To his side is the neighbor from the top of the hill
Whose presence was marked by the red pickup truck
Which occupied the blacktop driveway
A man of whom warmth seemed to radiate off of
Always with a smile to offer

My current fascination had been walking on my hands
Or rather attempting to �" my balance not quite up to par
Unsuspectingly, my futile efforts were observed
A voice speaks up, proposing a question
”Do you think I can do that?” �" I had to stifle a scoff
Hands placed on the ground, knees braced on his elbows
His legs a few feet off the ground
The 70-something man showing impeccable balance �" if only for mere seconds

I saw him the other day, his arms were crossed and eyes closed
I chose to remember a better time
One in which the sun bathed our faces and we were all younger

In memory: Paul C Avery, 85