Piper

I paid the pied piper;

He led my imagination to the river

and left it there, somewhere between the reeds.

The gasp of distance is something I can tell no story for,

the long pauses for upheaval.

all our dusty childhoods no longer feel like home;

the streets we trudged from school,

the seventh grade snowman.

All those dirt roads on which

we came tumbling down from our bikes,

scars on my skin, on yours—

we had our ways  to create the time we needed

to come of age.

When you have the time, when you have the space

give yourself a moment;

let yourself make mistakes.

I have paid the piper

I will pay the ferryman;

perhaps he will let me drink my fill

when he bears me across

to the shore for new souls.