~ AT BEING A BOY ~

My grandmother's hands
Slide,
Through my fingers
As my childhood 
Lingers,
On sweet smells of morning bacon
Containing flashes
Of blueberry pancakes
And remembrances making
Smiles, through effervescent thickness
Bringing me such pleasure
With memories thickets
As my youth in all its whimsy
Paints expressions on my face in the mirror
Which do not lie but so reverently malingers
In the catacombs of my beliefs
As I glide in on the happy notion
That I am alive
And not in some imagined sepulcher
But still dancing in my solitude
And still smiling
At the miracles
Of my youth....

Oh, glorious joy
Had I,
While being a boy...

And so,
I smile,
Relieved,
At my own
Most happy,
Recollection....