image sourceThose were the springtime
years of learning,
there, in the old
hollow by the creek.
You watched each spring
by her new blooms,
and the summer send her
sun warmed support.
Autumn colored the hillsides,
the glorious hues of fall.
You watched the lazy
leaves as they fell,
on the fantasy land
of youthful dreams.
The willows along the creek
became your castle halls,
the tall green grass
your ponies small,
the weeds your weapons tall.
The flowers were
your growing children,
the buds grew,
their petals opened full.
Some were weak,
and soon fell.
The strong ones survived
the summers blistering heat.
You welcomed all
natures children,
as you dreamed
your youthful halls.
You ate the delicious berries,
and chock cherries,
and drank of the cold,
invigorating spring water.
You even sang with the wind,
vowing someday to return
to your youthful dream world.
Yet, somehow you forgot
and left your land of dreams,
hungry for adventure,
wanting to taste the richness
of the worldly feast.
Those worldly activities
have all been lean years,
hoping you are ready
to return to your dream castle
and willows along the creek.
The flowers are
still blooming there,
the wind is still singing
it's song of youth.
This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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As children, our world is so rich. We live in the world of detail, we notice so many things. As we grow older, our world becomes narrower, we start to generalize, to develop ideas. This shuts us off from that primary contact with wonder, which you so beautifully describe in your poem.
ReplyDeleteA very inspiring piece, thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI like the picture greatly. Glorious Days of Youth caught my eye, and your verses knocked on the heart. Purity of your approach puts under a charm/makes your poem into a handbook. While reading you, my heavy musings on life have blossomed out with gratitude. Thank you.
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