26 Days of Thankpoems, Day 4

Day Four: Papa Was A Jumpin' Bob Dylan

When I was young, we would
take turns skipping stones
up on the hill, in our khaki shirts.
Now I ask for shelter.

​Clatter, a chain reaction,
hikers on the lower shelf,
it was hard to resist the Temptation.
Now I show some sympathy.

How does it feel?
To be without a home, 
only gathering moss?
Now I'm warm like the evening sun.

-J.G.C.