The Return of You and I

It’s thinking time; soft, soft you climb

Into the chamber of my thought

And suddenly the ivory

Of rib and skull are echo-fraught

Like a cradle filled with pieces

Tendered to love’s lullaby

I can feel you; thought releases

The return of you and I

Thought is both pastor and villain

Time steals with its giving hand

Innocence; saved for the children

Building castles in the sand

Past is put to pasture, but oh

Every little now and then

Thinking-time unbars its latch and

Draws thought to ‘remember when…’

Somehow I cannot detain you

I don’t really want to try

For then how else could I suffer

The return of you and I

© Janet Martin

Tedious jobs, like picking mint leaves from stems render thinking-time. How old are we when the see-saw in our heads tilts to the Past rather than the future...to what was rather than what will be...?
I like a fine balance of dreaming forward and looking-back learning;-)