Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I keep slipping back
to times when nothing
on this earth could stop me,
I had the braggadocio of youth on my side

but these days the rust has crept in
seizing up some of the parts as I knew them,
yet my mind often just takes off
like a kid and a kite running through a field of endless options

don't bother trying
to stop a willful mind
it's the only thing these days with real muscle
worth talking about

oh, I could lie in this hammock in my dark glasses
for hours staring at the spring sun
reliving my glory days one after the other
but most of the time

I'm right here
letting my weathered mind
gallop as she pleases across the prairies of tomorrow
still a stallion in my heart

wild and free and full of hope

my dreaming self remembers...
remembers running
clambering
jumping
taking stairs two at a time
popping a regulator into his mouth
and confidently sinking down
into black water...
remembers turning a sheet
of scribbled engineering math
into a solution to someone's problem...
he remembers those things
I have forgotten
(or nearly so)
he is the keeper of my youth
faithful scribe
of who I was
and what I did
I read his words now
with a distant smile
and a wistful tinge of regret

excellent poetic response.....