Generic

I remember your youthful laughter,
kitten on a keyboard,
a cacophony of notes
spilling out
randomly, joyously,
bringing sunlight to you
and all near.
Now you’re more
cousin to the moon,
older, sterner,
wiser but wizened,
slow to emote.
But I hope that laughter
from the past
is stored away where
you can withdraw it,
turn it over in your hands,
then listen to it,
as scratchy now
as an old phonograph record,
and feel what you felt then,
and that it doesn’t reside
deep inside you,
a museum piece,
inaccessible,
it’s value expended,
in a pile 
like wood shavings
after the saw.

Of Time and Laughter