Throw me back.

Throw me back

to summer nights that don’t end,

to winter air that burns the lungs,

to smiles that catch light and don’t let go,

to fires breathing low in the fall.

Throw me back—

to hands that knew hammers and nails,

to bare feet learning splinters,

to running streets until names didn’t matter,

to sweetness that lingered longer than it should.

Throw me back.

Now pull me in.

Pull me in where it aches without warning,

where laughter folds into itself,

where the body remembers before the mind does,

where tomorrow carries what today won’t hold.

Pull me in—

not gently,

but like it means to keep me.