a poem a day for a year #204

by Amy Turn Sharp


we made forts of blankets
caves of quilts
and for a few moments I let my guard down
crawled out of the worry zone and into the heart of childhood
took off my heels and climbed in
there was no darkness
even in the black recesses behind the couch
no kid fears
there was only light and it hit me like gasoline
like a match falling from a hand
your light
I want to catch fire like this again
every single day
I don't want to miss the way you can make me feel
when I turn down the awful dial of adulthood
when I turn it off