Back Then

Sometimes, he imagined them tumbling back in time

Before age crawled into their bones and “future” was just another word they couldn’t spell.

Little her, little him.

Little feet, little worries tucked into palms of bigger hands.

They were young and free.

They were wild and funny.

Her deep dimples filled half of her tiny face, his dreamy eyes chased butterflies.

Her laugh rang out like bells on a midsummer night.

And so long ago, his was its twin.

She was spinning stories then too, storming adventure at a squirrel’s pace.

He had once pretended to be a whale, an ocean, a telescope.

They were silly and giggly with so many rooms to explore

Some bright, some gloomy

Trap doors and endless caverns

Places where only one would fit

And some when only his hand in hers was the key.

Photo by Gabe Pierce on Unsplash

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