Imprints

Was a time when you weren’t there

I was rising.

Sitting atop a hill,

I was fantasizing.

Keeping to myself.

Was a time when I was small.

When that early rhyme

Made it all.

When that baby ball found its way

My arms aloft

Appraise from the hall.

Was a time when I was young.

When youthful love was in its prime.

When victories counted

And defeats jeered.

When life seemed what it was not.

Was a time when I was in youth

As life grinded the dreams of truth.

As dark silently creeped its way

While the eyes kept whooshing it away.

Was a time when I’d be old.

When I’d wonder what became of told?

When my life would be crissed and crossed along

By the faint lines and darker, behold!

When my heart would be pressed and impressed

By those stealthy imprints of sinister happiness.