Mine To Know

I want to play not manage,

  write not teach


I want to drive—all controls in hand


I want to be like the rain across

  the mountains


Not the river that may turn to sand


I want to be that sniper

  with a single bullet


And not part of the infantry’s trek


I want to be the first

  to cross the tundra


Without needing a map to check


I want the bugle to blow

  from my own lips


So others may advance and attack


I want roses free, to line

  my front walk


Replanted from the garden out back


I want feet that will always

  climb above


The timid and reluctant below


I want memories to follow me

  out of this world


To a place that is just mine to know


(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

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