A New Poem

The Children of Thayer Street

Bright confused
and
with brash energy;
eyes of fire and terror.

Young. Younger every year.

A rustle in your heart,
a whisper of lost
                           lostness.
These children of your middle years
as they smile wide and smoke and wear
self-involvement like a superhero cape
slashing red and blue
in the sunrise of their grown up pose.

You hate them just a little
and love them in a way they will never understand
until they are middle-yeared and looking
back
at the young. Younger every year.

As the semester begins, they swell your heart,
taking Thayer Street as their own.

On this day..

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