A Photograph of Me

I’m smiling,

red dress and black shoes,

legs lack length for my feet to reach the floor.

***

Life was easy.

Then again, I was young,

probably five.

Somewhere along our path to adulthood,

we lose our innocence,

our ability to choose to see joy in everything,

a part of our happiness.

***

What was there to worry about?

taxes,

money,

jobs,

life?

Of course not.

***

Life was as easy as the tricycles we rode,

up and down the flat smooth pavement.

We grew, the tricycle grew with us,

life changed, the tricycle changed into a car.

Flat wheels, bumpy roads, empty gas tanks, broken engines.

Problem after problem.

As if we thought life was still that easy.

***

I put the photograph back on the old shelf,

leave it where it belongs.