I look at the time: 2 AM.

It always comes now

A sound, a sight, a memory

It comes rushing back

Thoughts of simpler times

A more childish time

When I sat on the hardwood floor

Inside, away from the hot summer sun

Reading a book,

Playing games,

Eating a watermelon,

A memory possibly fabricated

But nostalgic nonetheless,

Of childhood bliss.

An aching sadness enters my heart

Thinking about the time that will never return.

The simple innocence of life,

Never to be relived

Now, with more experiences and thoughts.

Maturity is held up high

But it shatters the perfect world

Awareness comes all to quickly.

I know,

One day I will look back,

To these same times,

Wishing I could have held on tighter,

But my grip is already slipping.