Hands clasped behind my back
I wander the portrait gallery
Where old friends on display
Look out through younger eyes.
A traveler from a distant land,
I have so much to ask, but find
They have no voices to speak about
What would come–no notes to compare.
So, I put aside my curiosity.
Is it really important to know
Whether the kid with the curly red hair
Became an engineer or a rock star?
Better to crouch with him once more
Shooting marbles until the recess bell.
When what mattered was who ended up
With the green cat’s eye or blue aggie.
Garry Breland 