You collected terrariums
And filled them with sand from foreign shores
You strummed along to John Denver
While she wiped our hair and brushed our paws
Laughed at dirt beneath our nails
Led us past still waters and hikers trails
We never really saw it then
Three boys staring at photocopies of men
We laughed indoors, we laughed in makeshift tents
An amalgamation, the where the now the then
And as boyhood bleeds into adult grey
I remember mangroves whistling by the bay
And if I saw you one more time, I'd fold my hands,
Supine across the grass, listen one more time to tales of summers past.
