They Think

They Think

“They think that’s a bomb,” I said when I was three.

I hid it from my Mom. I saw it on T.V.

Even then, I feared to ever share.

 As its' blossom seared and shook the air,

How could I say aloud, I simply do not care?

So quaint, so antiquated, it moved me not at all.

Answerers anticipated, guess I’m no crystal ball.

For years I have waited, no answers came at all.

So young and yet so old, was I really only three?

I dared not be too bold, and tell everything I see.

I stood alone that day, alone I’m standing still,

The past won’t go away, regardless of my will.

Many things I saw, many things I see

The memories' still raw part of me's still three.