Innocence Lost


I remember the fifties...
Sunday afternoons,
grandmother's porch
after morning Mass.
.
Sunday dinner,
with music to follow
a celebration,
tunes until dusk.
.
People drove by
in those old finned cars
with seats as big
as grandmother's couch.
.
Driving slow,
nowhere to go,
folks waved and smiled
as they went by.
.
With dogs and cats
we children ran
in fields with grass
as tall as the sky.
.
skipping down
to abandoned tracks
to pick wild berries
and ponder frogs.
.
stopping then
to splash each other
in a trickling stream
by the old grey barn.
.
yes, we was "poor folk"
but damn it all...,
we laughed a lot,
we knew how to live!
.
we can never go back,
to innocence lost,
and I feel sad,
yet somehow blessed...
.
for having been there.
.
David Chiasson