They tarmacked over my childhood today.
Black top suppressing its heat in the clay.
It smells of rubber & finality.
Steaming at dusk, as it cracks by degree.
Moonlit, I wait for the last crackling hiss.
My terrors buried & sealed without kiss.
My face red from heat, I knock on new ground.
My time capsule hardened as I danced ‘round.
Touching the tar, still warm in its cooling.
No more, my life, will bygones be ruling.
Stone cold by midnight; the past now compressed.
Asphalt bound secrets I’ve sometimes confessed.
L.B.Stowe 