Used to Be
Used to be.
That's all that repeats
in my head
over and over again,
like an hammer and anvil
just
pounding
till the metal flattens-
or till my head
explodes.
It's the way it used to be.
The way my little feet
pranced
across the dirt ground,
listening the the crisp
red, golden
autumn leaves
crunch
underneath my
feet.
The way it used to be.
The way I would stare
awestruck
of my own green eyes
that reflected in your own.
It was the way it used to be.
I would hold your soft, warm
inviting hand
and dance
with my dress
flowing fancifully
in the wind
and
look up to see
your smile.
Just for me.
The way it used to be.
Your hands would
gracefully
pick up a chestnut
and gently
toss it to me,
while I pranced around,
holding the
basket,
with chestnuts
bouncing
out of the basket
from time to time
as you gleamed at me
and
welcomed me
with open arms
full of love.
But
that was the way it
used to be.