childhood

shiny coins
wooden boxes
tree limbs
and stone walls
they flood our senses
they invade our minds
they live forever in our hearts
as we watch our own children
follow quickly in our steps
without ever having told
or shown
or been
our children will know
how to be who we were
how to be who they are
we never need whisper
a word of encouragement
a hint of emotion
it all will be
exactly what it must
in years that pass
our children will grow
will sprout, and turn
and become something lovely
they will slowly leave the path
that they followed all along
with one eye behind them
seeking that bent coin
yearning after the boxes and trunks
the crumbling stone walls
and deadened tree limbs
as they seek their new toys
new treasures
and passions
to become what we are
to have their own young
and to watch, with joy
as they experience the waves
of love
that have coursed through us all
since the beginning
of time