By John Yurgens
When did I lose the art of playing?
When did I lose the gift of pretending?
A young child swimming in the lake early summer
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When asked, “How can you stay in there that long the water is so cold”?
I pretend it isn’t. I can’t do that, not sure I ever could.
Early winter morning waiting for my bus.
The snow is wet and heavy, perfect for snowballs or even a snowman.
I contemplate getting my knees to start to build a snowman.
I fight the urge I don’t want to start the day wet and cold
I recall as a child wet and cold was a rite of passage of winter.
When did I decide to be responsible?
When did I grow up?
When did I lose the Art of playing?
