As I Grow Up Again

A little boy wears my mistakes
like a favorite pair of shorts
outgrown
at six
my favorite excuse was morning
and I remember that I hated
springs change.

At play within my childhood
my son works hard
learning
the doors that do not open easily
and which clocks will not work
he toys with anger like young cat
testing its edges
slashing through the discarded box
where I laid my childish dreams to rest
and brought him brown and wriggling
to his own house.

He learns there through my error
winning with secrets
I do not need to know.