When I was ten, the summers glistened with play,
where minutes clicked like pools of marbled glass
and hours were dressed as black cubes speckled white
which domino-toppled one upon the next.
When valleys, hills, and lakes were holes of dirt
and ant mounds next to puddles.  War and peace
were idle games of boredom used as space
to fill moments laden with laziness.
Time to time, consciousness was squeezed from eyes
wrung dry by sleep.  I slumbered; fancies packed
my death-state visions, trapping images
of reckless stunts and hikes to cocoa ponds
to drink the milky chocolate ambrosia.
But now I fancy having leisure time
and time to lie, guilt-free, with my sweet sleep.
For now I spend seconds impatiently
awake and restless, waiting for summer to pass.

-Tsai