You think it was a regular thing
You remember it being a tradition
The lake
the hammock
that bench at night
the way the stockings hung
the way those crayons smelled
the ferns dripping from the ceiling
onto your neon yellow shirt
But it was once, only
It’s not the way it always was
It’s not the way it has to be
or should be
It wasn’t every week
Every Wednesday at two
Every Thursday morning
before the bus came
It was once
