is that one day you’re digging 
in your backyard unearthing layer upon layer
of dirt and the lilies are blooming 
and the next day comes 
and the lilies are brighter
but the funny thing about childhood is that 
the next day spills into a week
which spills into 
a month
which spills into 
a year
and suddenly 
the lilies are no longer lilies, 
child no longer child
and all that is left is 
the imprint of the past,
something waiting to be 
unearthed, layer by layer.