Round Here

The wheels on the bicycle spin
as the sun flickers down,
catching red locks
and magnifying them
in the summer's rays.

Sprinklers are twisting,
blasting bended blades.

Children race down sidewalks
barefoot
laughing
ignoring everything
but living each moment of the day.

The contrast of white on white
illuminates the laughter
that will be lost
much too soon.

As days grow into years,
lives grow into routine
and the spinning wheels
lose their shine.

For when we forget the best of times
we give ourselves over to rote,
to missing the understanding
that there is always
something left to say.



                                                   {source}