Some days are better than others.
Yesterday I laughed at what life threw at me;
Today I feel vulnerable and barely afloat.
I guess this is what they call life.
I look outside the window,
It’s another gray and dreary day.
Like the day before,
And the day before that,
Days turn into reflections of the past.
I read a poem yesterday about wanting to be back
In the days of eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
I could relate, except for me, those days were days of
Watching Gilligan’s Island and the Brady Bunch,
Playing basketball in the schoolyard with friends,
Riding my bike for miles with my best cousin,
Talking about boys from the neighborhood,
Those were the good old days indeed…
Or were they? Perhaps some of them were also marred.
Is it truly that the past tasted so sweet?
Or is it that bitterness tastes like a
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich
As we move forward in time?
Ah that vicious uncontrollable dimension!
The one that moves ever forward and never back,
We would find out that some of those moments in the past
Actually tasted like chopped liver.