When the Floor Was Lava
Way back when the floor was lava
and the couches were trampolines
and the pillows were raw materials for an indestructible fortress,
nothing really mattered.
We wouldn’t remember if it was Monday
or if it was Friday
but we’d never forget to count down
to Christmas and Halloween.
We danced to the whizzing of the VCR
as it would rewind
to tell us toy story
and ice any wounds to our innocence.
We had dreams, unconsumed by grown up things
of eating the moon’s cheese,
or conquering Mount Everest,
or saving the world.
We were convinced that it was enough to try our best
and that school was about learning
and that grown ups don’t like naps
and that privileges rewarded age
They never told us where babies come from
or that adults are not encyclopedias
or that we’d always feel like we’re in second place
or that 24 hours can slyly sneak by.
But eventually, the floor turns to hardwood
and couches are for sitting
and pillows are slept upon
and suddenly, every minute matters.