if i could pause a day

If I could pause a day, I'd pause the bathwater running out of the faucet. I'd pause the first day you held my hand, on that front porch, way past my bedtime. I'd pause the red spaghetti-o before it stained red on my white shirt. I'd pause the silver bullet van driving 45mph in a school zone. And the leaves falling out of trees, I'd pause those too. I'd pause the news on the T.V. that one September. Or the time I laid in the grass with my dog-eared book, and my big-eared dog. I'd pause before I told her I loved her, and I'd pause before I slammed that door. If I could pause a day, I'd rewind to the times when VCRs played PG rated movies. I'd pause the moment I stood tall in dark pants and sang what my heart had felt. If I could pause a day, I would pause the other September day, it was still warm enough for denim shorts. And I'd pause that day forever.