The Envy of Innocence

do you recall a simpler time
when the world seemed to go about
its day, the very way it ought
when the only way you knew
to measure time was not by days,
or weeks, or years, but by moments
and when seasons transitioned
more slowly than they do now
yesterday never felt like a memory
but the extension of our souls
carrying over from one day to the next
and every day to come
a time you were too young to dread
the way it would one day change
when enough days were lived
to be collectively called the past
and yesterdays were now
remembered through a fog
the laughter a little quieter
the colors less bright
and you would long to get back
to the place you remembered
but a place you'd never really been
because in truth we often remember life
the way we wished we would've lived

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