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100 Summers
Pristine blue skies and burning-sun dandelions,
to them each time for the first time, 100 times
this is the finest of fortunes.
Each time, we stop to stare, a different place, a different time.
They stare back, blankly, our faces unfamiliar to them.
How much we've changed, how little they have.
What a gift! To stop,
to pause, to look, to stare, to smell the air,
to listen to their whispers, to remember, to relive, to revive.
How wonderful it would be to know 100 summers!
Each one staring blankly into the eyes of a stranger,
A stranger remembering someplace far off
inside the present.
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