This is the Best Time
By Chloe Campbell
March 2007
Out of childhood we explode. Onward with
Adulthood, but without the knowledge that
Soon we will deem the worst things as but myth.
Though elders lived before us, we scoff at
Them still. Elephants’ skin is thick like ours.
Good thing, for the goading is incessant.
But when the cold clouds commence to glower,
Our egos become evanescent.
Rosy countenances choke white with knuckles,
And anger runs, the toxins in our tears.
These raw eyes we can hide with a chuckle.
To feel is not our greatest or least fear.
We are immortal, godlike with steady gait,
And faltering, lowing — childhood of late.
