Wonderful Things (I Had Forgotten)
The act of walking without a grimace,
like the young lovers just in front of us.
Dark, wavy locks falling onto the barber’s cape.
Closing my eyes,
making a wish and
blowing out candles
on a birthday cake.
Self-acceptance I once knew as a small child.
Riding a bike for the very first time.
Counting the number
of train cars
at a long and flashing crossing.
Opening a package
with festive wrapping
early morning on
Christmas Day.
Reading a bedtime story to a three-year-old.
Deliberately slowing my pace
in a Narnian wonderland
to suspend near-Irish-twins
with
“that’s the end of chapter eight.”
A childlike quick-step
to celebrate
the joy of being alive.
The light that still remained
in Carter’s 100-year-old eyes.