It was early days when I first started writing
with countless mistakes and moments of haste-
afraid even to disclose why I did that.

An accidental discovery by Dad
and the grin on his scholarly face
set me free  from this ******* of words.

Soon the brown paper bags
and napkins became
castles of creativity
and my nights became ticketless travels
to faraway places
where roads  connected  no communities
or pilgrims of patience.

At twenty I was sixty
and now at the far end I'm twenty again
-everything in reverse.

The poetic soup that simmered in my head
is only now being served in paper cups
with a sprinkling of  salt and pepper reality.

This was a fun journey all along.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 6 days ago