POEM: At A Bus Stop

When I watch the children at the bus stop
They are boundless as water -
Wire haired with ruddy pink faces.

The parents, on the other hand,
Stand hunched, balancing coffee,
Hunkered down for the worst

Of what the day has to offer.
At what point did this change in you?
Can you ever remember

What it was like to be so formless?
To be a sentence fragment in need
Of a subject, and not caring a whit?

To let the day move on its own,
And leave time and plans and dreams alone?