When I was young~
I used to lay on my stomach~
and bury my face in the thick green carpeting~
of Mother Earth.
And I would inhale the scent of soil~
and feel the tickling of the soft blades~
that brushed across my skin.

When I was young~
I used to wrap my arms around~
the pillars that shot up out of the Earth~
with limbs outstretched and inviting.
Their skin so rough would scrape my flesh~
as I climbed onto the limbs that waved~
with the breeze in sweet greetings.
And once I had reached the top~
I would look down at the Earth~
and see the rolling hills~
the stern faces of the mountains~
and the glassy lakes that reflected the heavens above.
I would also see the rows of homes~
that mutilated the scenery.

When I was young~
I would look up at the window of blue~
and see the fiery eye that returned~
my gaze with ferocity and purpose.
And I would bow down like the flowers~
who served to worship the eye~
that fed them light.
And when the eye was closed~
and the diamonds came out~
and danced their twinkling dance~
I would look up to the shining face~
of the man who looked down at me~
so stoic and opalescent.
And I would dream dreams~
and make wishes.

When I was young...

Copyright 1999 Heather Bahnmaier. All Rights Reserved.

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