I stretch the map of my childhood
it veils the years since the 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and now 50’s
taut scrim overlaying there my mother
me I have gone there and we are not enmeshed in history one
indistinguishable from the other in too many way
yet my father too runs through the fibers
like cotton floss misting my days of discovery and exploration so that
my eyes see from here through to the efforts of handheld play in work
40 years have gone since the final days of a life defined as childhood
the decade plus three held there, swept smooth of wrinkles blanketing these decades gone on in if not gratitude then maybe at least
peace now
I feel nothing but the warmth of acceptance
this is the life I dreamt