" AT BEING A BOY "

In the late afternoon my dreams ease so peacefully
Grandma's hands through my fingers
Not sleeping.......my childhood lingers
And sweet smells of morning bacon
Have such paintbrushes and remembrances
That I smile through the effervescent thickness
And I'm pleasured with familiar tickles
Of my youth, in all it's whimsy
Still, the expression on my face in the mirror
Does not lie but so reverently malingers
In the catacombs of my belief system
And I awaken to the happy notion
That I am afraid
And alive........not, in the sepulcher
But still dancing in my solitude
And still smiling
At the miracles
Of my youth,
Oh happy joy
Had I
At being a boy,
And so I smile
Relieved,
At my own happy
Recollection....

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)