While our children leap, lope and yell
over lady bug jungles,
let us radiate our moonlit dreams
of tip-skirmished epidermis, nipped
earlobes and excited hisses, fresh familiar zens
that birthed these oft-edenic scenes;
let us bask under hot intangible slants,
affectionate kisses that avow loving
deviations, fuzzy-cuffed sundae undulations
to warm our hearts and wet our flesh,
riding the firewheels of time and
recollection, antiquated sparks in our children's
gaiety.