I don’t miss much of being young,
But I miss apple butter.
And yes, I know I can get it online;
That doesn’t help me while I’m out driving.
Why do we think of the things we do?
Why things so random, all the time?
I think, in this case, that
The barn there reminds me
Of Dutch Pantry restaurants,
And those remind me of apple butter,
Of eight years old,
Riding through Pennsylvania countryside,
Singing songs as a family,
When Summer meant freedom,
And death only happened
To Star Trek security guards.
I miss apple butter