Let Me Be 22

The Golden

box with the 

beat up 

edges

holds a 

moment

in my past.

A moment 

where I was

young

and the world

was mine. 

My Doc Marten

boots were

tall

and my 

dress was

short.

The sandstone

coral

and turquoise

taught

me about the 

past.

The People

who shifted in

and out

of my

life

were

magical.

This place

was magical

and in

the moment

I thought

this was how

all my

experiences

would be.

That these 

moments,

these 

learnings

would

continue

through my

life.

As I walked

to the beat

up 

van for 

the last 

time

I threw 

the old

extension

cord

in the back. 

I had 

stood

on it for

years. 

All the 

work,

all the parties.

The travel.

I was so 

right 

as I look

back

I would

never 

experience this

again. 

But 

I am so 

grateful

that I

did.

So as 

I let

the falling tears

touch

this 

beat up 

box I

smile.

Because 

we 

were 

fucking

rebels

and 

we did 

so many

things.

I open

the box and  take

out the necklace 

and let myself

float.

Let me touch

the past for 

just a moment.

Let me

be 22 

again

and let

me hear

all the music.