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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