for a while
when we followed those dreams
we had
along that mile
in a city of old
when poetry sang the streets
and actors along curbs rolled
where the air
was clean
thieves unseen
who stole more hearts
than cinnamon jelly beans
and then back
to discover
as we were told
that we must play nice
when we grow old
or we'll be hurt
and we must learn
the Art of war
and love no more
till we find that
one of a kind
and believe the scene
of that long lost dream
and
then
as
the
hilt
reaches
the
chest
bone
we bid adieu
and welcome
that
all
alone
