Conversation with a six year old.

“I want to be 100 years old”
and my reply is “someday you may”
my voice reminding my mind
that he is only six years old
and I was six once, barefoot
picking wild strawberries
along the ditch, swatting mosquitoes
with pink fingertips

and he nods in understanding
while I explain that people die every day
accidents, falls and disease,
their bodies weakened by old age
he pauses and shrugs, reminding me
that he is six years old
for but a brief moment

he is young and I will never be again,
so I wait for him to ask the inevitable

“what happens when you die”
and it’s my turn to shrug
reminding myself
that I don’t know anything

and he tells me with a wry grin
that he wants to come back as a falcon