When my twin grandsons were younger I spent endless hours with the two of them piled in the back of the red wagon and me pulling them around. I miss those moments they go by all too quickly.
There, tucked away in the corner,
brightly shining,
sits the red wagon,
they used to ride in.
Those summer days, green grass,
clouds with a silver lining,
how I long,
for those days again.
Two little angels neatly packed,
into the wagon's back,
laughing, giggling, those cries of joy,
and "Go really fast!"
Hours spent in the land of adventure,
racing headlong round the track.
A moment spent recalling younger days,
ghosts of the past.
Now they ride bicycles,
and play with other things.
Absorbed by the more complicated,
more grown up toys.
Yet memories of the red wagon,
how this heart stings,
remembering summer days that wagon,
and my little boys.