Give Me Back My Dime

Give me back my dime, stolen in time...

The mirror always lies,

Or what of those lines and deep furrows,

I am a child in love with life,

What of the body which shows otherwise,

Give me back my dime,

And take away my green notes.

What days of reckless abandonment,

When weather mattered not,

But was cherished and regaled,

The fellowship of friends,

Stronger than any blood bonds,

I miss the simplicity of yesterday,

Take away my dime but return those days.

No price tags, no pretensions,

The cool breeze of summer night,

The cuddling around a bonfire,

On winter days,

The secret society of tales,

The sheer ecstasy of jumping in puddles,

What price can one put to those days,

Take away everything but just give me my dime

Of days that were.

The old school yard,

The long corridors,

The palpable sense of dread,

In exam halls and then the exultation,

Of holidays and lazy mornings ahead,

No planning, just being in the moment,

The security of parents, who smiled knowingly,

What can possibly return those times,

When memories ache, on some painful day,

I yearn and beg, take away all I have,

But give me the dime time stole from me.