Three Again

I felt the firm moist sand beneath my feet
as the ocean water came in orgasmic pulses to greet me
facing the warmth of my pacific sun
I closed my eyes and I was three years old.

One moment is my universe
dark and fading
alone as it seems now it has always been
reaping the fields I plow.
In silence we suffer
in quiet sounds of pain
I would be three again
more powerful alliances I had then.

three, again
I’d cry and they’d run
caring to curtail
the wetness of my innocent universe.

When tomorrow comes I’ll play in fields
reaping future crops.
My secret as I’m halfway home
is desire to be three again.
To be again
to feel firm moist sand beneath my feet
and the ocean water coming to me
facing my warm pacific sun
my eyes closed . . .

I am three.
“Weeeeee!!!” again!
Free again.
Free again.
Free again.


About memoirpoet

I've been faking it as a writer for more than 30 years. Keep that low.
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