thinking of times
when walking for a mile
took you into a different world
climbing a hill
    through clinging underbrush
filled you with apprehension
of what might be awaiting you
beyond the crest

then
to slowly open up
the pages of a book
was always more
than just a ritual of escape

the not so casual touch
    of a girl’s hard breast
    a boy’s lean hand
upon your shoulder
sent shudders down your spine
of inarticulate hot expectations
and brought wild images to you
at night
in lusting isolation

to keep this core
   the sense of awe
   of wonder and excitement
alive in you against the waves of many years
is not an easy feat
   yet worth the while

it makes you see
    when many just walk by
life’s gracious beauty of small moments

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