Nothing is Taller than the Stars

Do you remember the days when ten feet
was the tallest that we could imagine?
And our goals involved only the top of that tree—
no mind to “a cleaner burning engine.�
The corporate world was self-contained, not
that it mattered much—our horizons were
even so narrow—we dreamed of robots
and wished summer would go on forever.
That’s the trouble with adulthood—the same
tiny perspectives, but with roles reversed.
Our lives small beside towers, grainy
memories fade to lovely shadow-verse.
If only Time would rewind our trite cares,
we could again from the roof-tops count stars.

I like it very much.