These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The World That Was

Candy was my little dog
so many years ago,
A Peek-a-Poo to hold and hug,
the sweetest friend to know,

but she's now gone, and that world, too,
of Christmases so long.
These days now fly, and when they're through
not much is left but song.

I burned my legs on the sky-high slide.
My head knew the merry-go-round's bolt.
I ate the dirt and drank with pride
the yard hose heat, red jolt.

We went to school, and when 'twas done
enjoyed we Gilligan's Island.
We walked the mall for Christmas fun.
All summers long were swimming.

We said the Pledge. We read The Word.
We prayed with public school teachers.
The Truth we learned each day was heard
in school, and from the preachers.

"Please, come again, Dear Lord of All.
The Ancient of Days is young
for old we are through our parents' fall.
'The sting of death' has stung."

One day His own He'll call to Supper,
while earthbounds know His Wrath.
His Sacrifice the saints did cover
as sons He made of waifs.

The world that was some souls have changed,
but one day through the fire
the old made new is rearranged,
in separation's ire.

by Jay O’Toole
on August 25th, 2025