Floating cotton on warm, lazy currents
The smell of dry meadow grass parched by the afternoon sun
Dust swirling in dissipating clouds around bare feet
The droning dissonance of summer insects
Blurred images across the hazy fields
Whispered secrets
The coolness of the forest shelter
The coolness of the forest shelter
Harsh landscape variations
Hot, dusty feet sliding into the creeks motion
Cool water flowing like silk through toes
Sunlight dancing between leaves
twinkling in callow eyes
A sense of security
A sense that all will remain
Unchanged
And then we grow up
Forgetting the magic of childhood
And the beauty of it's simplicity
© 2006 Michelle (nnm)
11 comments:
Amen to that...I sure wish that I knew what I know now when I was a lot younger.....I would have done some things differently! Hindsight, eh?
Lovely!! :)
Some of us don't forget what it was like to be a child.
I like thoughts of dipping toes into creeks too :)
Let's go build a fort somewhere and only let in the people we want to.
amazing poem, naive
can i come in the fort?
beautiful poem nnm. whisked me away to childhood memories of making pee mudpies. :D
Isn't it nice to have the wisdom of life and still claim the ability to capture the beauty of such innocent moments. Perhaps now you really do have it all.
Clew~ Bring plenty of junk food to the fort.
Genius~ You bring books and paper.
Joy~ You can come if you don't make pee mudpies.
Theresa~ Thank you for that lovely comment. You can be the leader of our fort! :)
Everyone else - thanks for the comments.
LOVE this. Very nice Michelle. :)
I love it. Can I come to the fort? We could do a beatnik poetry reading there. I'll bring a drum. (boom boom)
Its amazing what time and a little perspective can do.
Beautiful.
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