The Lost Aprils

Does anyone wonder where the lost Aprils are?
Or, have those with insight all but disappeared?

Last night, I wandered at evening's dusk,
and do you know what I saw?
Two small footprints,
captured forever
in the cement at the sidewalk's edge

In my mind's eye, I could see sturdy, brown legs,
as a little boy jumped and made his mark on the world.

I wonder, was the experience spoiled for him?
Did he get into trouble for that leap of faith?

Oh, those little footprints and the lost Aprils of life:
In innocence we reach out, our hearts filled with trust and awe,
only to be bruised unbearably,
when others fail to see the beauty and gentleness in the world.

I like to think that someone came along, then listened,
as the little boy proudly showed his footprints.

I like to thinkin fact, I dare to hope . . .
that he had someone to share his wonder with.

Award of Excellence, Poetry Institute of Canada

Learn more about this author, Athlyn Green.
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