Childhood Remains Within
Where are the younger years and how dare they not remain?
Fleeting, as the flowerbed seems like it went before it came,
Usually a constant traced that can never be erased by time,
Until black/brown turns to gray, clouds covering up my mind.
The juvenile days of marshmallow roasts abandon the stream,
From a paradise bound to be a forest forever no longer green,
Where poets remain like Anacondas, silent enchanting rhyme,
Yet everything must yield to Mother Nature, even Father Time,
As nightingale and robin join in one chorus to usher the moon,
Ocean’s reflect the glory of a blue horizon the sun is too soon,
Their harmony combines where no other species might refuse,
If it was downtown Chicago you would swear it was the blues.
The energy I spent in games never won has never been lost,
Everything I did rewinds with me like a dream there is a cost,
Gained experiences from childhood that I can proudly boast,
At a midnight sandbox I repelled Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Who ever heard of Witch’s and Goblins not making you fear?
O my friends! I’ll never forget those faithful childhood years,
One night we wished upon the stars in the middle of a storm,
Because good friends huddle together & everyone was warm.
Rest assured that all of these friendly memories I shall forget,
They are special precious gems unworthy of trading and yet,
For one more childhood hoop and holler in a legendary duet,
Would I relinquish my wealth for old times, hell yeah you bet.
Thanks to Him who taught me to live and giving what I need,
Now I shall plant the summer fruits for my coming little seed,
To satisfy vicariously from daddy’s offspring one day I’ll see,
Spirit joy filled laughter my parents experienced through me.
Is that not how growth begins and expands within the earth?
Nothing begets anything unless a seed of life is planted first,
Only what is planted will regenerate and determine it’s worth,
Silent darkness of the underground or warmth of the hearth?
Seasons oh seasons, dragging on forever, fall, winter, spring,
As ushering in the summer seemed like your only good thing,
Will always remember my first little league homerun I was 10,
No matter how many years flee, “Childhood Remains Within.”
w/Obed da la Cruz
poem by Luke Easter
Added by Poetry Lover
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