Breath of a Child's Undoing

Spring and breeze and such were oh so powerful then-

I fiddled and I fiddled and I fiddled

while Rome was still smoking;

I danced and I whittled

and I climbed and I giggled,

and drank the finest of barrelled rainwater.

I was no match for Earth, metaphorically speaking-

She found me once at the end of a ramp,

She reached for me at the height of my swinging career,

She confounded me with her dandelions.

I should not ask for better teachers

than Sun and breeze and such-

for in their memorials are found

the blocks of who we were;

for in their branches are found

the lilacs of our renovations,

for in their arms is cradled

the breath of a child's undoing.

(People should ask what I am doing here,

all alone and uninvited.

I should have asked what I had done here,

so small and unrequited.)