SALAD DAYS

SALAD DAYS

I do not miss my salad days, my youthful missteps.
I do not look fondly on my past,
There is much I’d soon forget.

Years of lonely longing and lying to myself,
A youthful indiscretion that filled me with self-hate
And one too many heartbreaks, infatuations unfulfilled.

Always the loner, always the odd one,
Always forever the fool on the hill.

I do not miss my salad days, nor would I go back there,
Not even for a million dollars or a full head of hair.
I was a most accomplished idiot, my hand in every pie,
And high school though I loved it then
Is now a blur in my rearview mirror.

And college is a memory of a collage of cherished friends
And a treasure chest of heartaches that caused my heart to bend.
I struggled with self-hatred, with my sexuality.
I struggled so with everything, I struggled to break free.

But it wasn’t ‘til I was nearly 40 and when you came to me,
That the veil of darkness lifted and I could finally see.
I do not miss my salad days, though I was younger and quicker then.

There are blessings to be found in age, a clarity, a Zen,
And your sweet hand joined with mine, forever to the end.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED