If I Were Young Again (V3) <br />By Michael Lee Johnson <br /> <br /> Piecemeal summer dies: <br /> long winter spreads its blanket again. <br /> <br /> For ten years I have lived in exile, <br /> locked in this rickety cabin, shoulders <br /> jostled up against open Alberta sky. <br /> <br />If I were young again, I'd sing of coolness of high <br />mountain snow flowers, sprinkle of night glow-blue meadows; <br />I would dream and stretch slim fingers into distant nowhere, <br />yawn slowly over endless prairie miles. <br /> <br />The grassland is where in summer silence grows; <br />in evening eagles spread their wings <br />dripping feathers like warm honey. <br /> <br />If I were young again, I'd eat pine cones, food of birds, <br />share meals with wild wolves; <br />I'd have as much dessert as I wanted, <br />reach out into blue sky, lick the clouds off my fingertips. <br /> <br />But I'm not young anymore and my thoughts tormented <br />are raw, overworked, sharpened with misery <br />from torture of war and childhood. <br />For ten years now I've lived locked in this unstable cabin, <br /> <br /> inside rush of summer winds, <br /> outside air beaten dim with snow. <br /> <br />-1985- <br />(R-11-12)<br /><br />Michael Lee Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-i-were-young-again-v3/
