In 20 years, you will remember
the blue sky
and the bear-shape of the one cloud
the smell of asphalt, the pain of landing
and the color of the blood on your knees

In 30 years, you will remember
the feeling of a bone against the ground
the taste of grass
the sense of falling, the pain of landing
and the color of dirt in your wounds

in 40 years, you won’t remember anything
except the feeling of the wind
through your hair
the beat of your heart against the inside of your ribs
and the sound of moving
humming through your ears
as your mother yelled after you

God, you’ll miss your mother
her voice
and her touch
as she cleans the wounds
after you fall again.