Old Paper

      he thought back far &
      the moon looked like old paper
      a third-grade cutting of the harvest moon
      pasted on the wall by the chalkboard
      smoked with time & distance &
      peeled on the corners

      he remembered the smiling little blonde
      skinny & knock-kneed at 10
      & how his heart fluttered when
      he rubbed sand in her hair
      caught even then in the swirl of sweet blondes
      but too young to know it

      now past the age of schoolboy sand
      he still wonders at the moon & curled paper
      & the magic blonde that owns his heart
      this trip around to a final landing soft
      on hard earth & the mix of elements
      sand paper love & flesh & all the
      moments here to there & all
      the moments yet to come

      drawn in lines that lead everywhere
      clear back to the moon of old
      & paper turned by time