The Steps

THE STEPS

The steps, three concrete pillars wide
Four high. This was our temple
We plotted, spat, laughed and mocked

We viewed the globe from here.
Played pontoon, wrapped knuckles.
Mountain bikes lay on the avenue floor

Pushing tip top wrappers down the grid
There wasn’t much else to do.
People say childhood is the best years

But how much time do you waste?
Pondering, dreaming
Thinking your older than what you are
Time passed over, through us
As the swell on waves

You know how a wave will start somewhere
And end up hitting the beech miles away

That’s what life is
Our memories are the oceans
And time passes by ahead until
Rolling pebbles, washed away castles.