Culdesac Crew

by Cole McNamara

I miss the past pinecone wars of fall.
Sidestepping solid spikey green grenades
to avoid the aching welts that followed.

We would dumpster dive in spring
to explore the tantalizing treasures
that tickle our innocent imaginations.

I miss the mighty magic wars of summer.
Spitting shards of ice and flashes of flame
from wooden wands and staves of stick

We would hole up and hibernate in winter
to not actually sleep, but to pull all-nighters 
and play pokemon; eagerly awaiting tomorrow. 

We were the Culdesac crew.
We thought we'd live forever.