As one grows older,
It is only natural to
Think more often.

But a busy mind
Can wander,
and where does it end up?

Reminiscing over childhood,
Always curious, hands in the mud,
Looking for dung beetles.

Remembering those days
Where teens rode free,
At least until 10 p.m.

Admiring the breathlessness
That is early adulthood,
Sneaking into the corner to kiss.

Examining choices and plots,
Looking over every detail,
Like an author in the dark.

Deciding that events didn't
Always go as planned,
But were perfect, nonetheless.