Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Posts tagged ‘childhood’

August Silence

Thank you, God,
For the quiet of early August.
The quiet streets,
The quiet mornings;
School’s not yet started.

The quiet neighborhoods —
People gone to their cabins at Tahoe,
Or on road trips, or plane trips:
Gone to weddings (or funerals) —
Gone to see relatives.

Thank you for the cool morning air,
All the better with the silence.
But birds do sing and twitter;
I hear airplanes in the sky,
And a mother’s lullaby.

Sometimes the earth has peace,
You can drink up the silence,
You can remember childhood days
Of endless summer,
And let today be your gratitude.

Childhood

Childhood:
It was all so simple then
Our differences didn’t matter
Or if they did, we’d fight —
And then get back together

Childhood:
The others could be cruel
They’d make you feel a fool
But at least we were alive
And had a home to go to

Childhood:
A simple view of life
An innocence — and light
Would rule the day, until the night

Childhood:
It was all so simple then —
Could I live in that world again?

I’d Like to Give …

I’d like to give you

To Martha

[To my childhood friend, Martha]

Muddy puddles
And balls of clay.
Rain-slick streets
And friends at play.

We wandered ‘hoods,
And built big forts.
We played in sprinklers
In polka-dot shorts.

We drank from hoses;
We played hula-hoop.
We ate salty seaweed
On the neighbor’s stoop.

We dreamed big dreams
Of solving mysteries,
We made up rhymes
With hickory-dickory.

We played recorder,
A kind of flute.
We sat on doormats
Made of jute.

On Halloween,
We made a haul.
A load of sugar,
Ten pounds in all.

We played outside,
‘Til it was dark.
We’d stay all day
At the neighborhood park.

We played mah-jong
And shared our tomes.
Your encyclopedia
You always loaned.

I don’t know where
That world has gone.
But as time travels,
It’s just begun.

A Little Girl

A little girl can sometimes sing,
Can flit about on angel’s wings,
Can dance with fairies, now unseen,
Can be so sweet, or contrary.

A little girl loves daddy’s whiskers,
She doesn’t mind that they are ticklish.
A little girl sits on his lap;
Head on his chest, she takes a nap.

A little girl has wondrous dreams,
On unicorns she’ll catch moonbeams.
She gathers starlight in her hands,
She dreams of being a princess grand.

A little girl in time grows up.
She gives up dolls and other stuff.
But every woman’s heart can tell —
Inside, the child is living still.

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