The Old Pop Machine

I see an old pop machine from my childhood
That brings back memories from the past.
My heart aches for those long lost memories,
As I wish for a few moments, that again,
I could be a child.

Late night walks with my family
As we walked the family dog.
Talking with my younger brother,
Joking with my dad or hearing about moms work day.

There were times, I just lagged behind just to hang onto the night.
Everything was so simple,
The worries I had then,
Just don't compare to the stress of life today.
I chuckle at all of those useless, but meaningful childhood moments.

I scan all of the old flavors of that old pop machine
And I reminisce on each kind.
Remembering every taste,
And each moment I experienced that taste.

Some were sweeter than others,
While there were a few that had the sour puckers.
Perhaps those were the flavors of life...

A small pain in my heart is felt as I slowly begin to let go of
that old pop machine.
While the flavors remained the same, the cans had now become bottles to hold all of life's new moments.

My hand slips over this old pop machine,
as I give a last wave to my old childhood flavor.

It's amazing just how some things just aren't as sweet as they once were.
While flavors may change over a lifetime, the memories of the taste, hang on forever.