When the Floor Was Lava

Way back when the floor was lava

and the couches were trampolines

and the pillows were raw materials for an indestructible fortress,

nothing really mattered.

We wouldn’t remember if it was Monday

or if it was Friday

but we’d never forget to count down

to Christmas and Halloween.

We danced to the whizzing of the VCR

as it would rewind

to tell us toy story

and ice any wounds to our innocence.

We had dreams, unconsumed by grown up things

of eating the moon’s cheese,

or conquering Mount Everest,

or saving the world.

We were convinced that it was enough to try our best

and that school was about learning

and that grown ups don’t like naps

and that privileges rewarded age

They never told us where babies come from

or that adults are not encyclopedias

or that we’d always feel like we’re in second place

or that 24 hours can slyly sneak by.

But eventually, the floor turns to hardwood

and couches are for sitting

and pillows are slept upon

and suddenly, every minute matters.