childhood slipped into

adulthood like water

dripping between my fingers.

i tried to carry it in pockets,

small treasures, memories

of bike rides in leaf strewn

streets and scraped knees

with sunburnt shoulders.

i feel the cool air,

running home to beat

the hum of the street

lights switching on or

thrill of knowing

we were free to camp

out all night. kings

of the streets while

the adults slept.

sometimes i can feel

it. i sense the thrill,

but then, like dust

floating in rays of

the setting sun,

it slips away again.