Poem4 Moments
Every
time I look at children
I
am reminded of a little me, so silly
Not
a care in the world
Oblivious
to the pain around me
Climbing
tree trunks like one of the boys
Trying
so desperately to keep up
Me
so small
Trekking
behind my big brothers like an energetic Chihuahua
I
wanted them to know that I too could hang
Anything
you can do I can do better
At
school stink bombs went off in the bathroom
Rancid
sulfuric rotten egg smelling
As
we all held our noses
Our
teachers looked for the culprit
Unable to find those
Mischievous
little trouble makers
The
same ones who’d spit wads stuck to the ceiling
They
were made of several sheets of that brown recycled paper towel
Just
the right amount of sticky soap
And
Water, lots of it
But
all us kids knew
and we’d giggle till our bellies felt that
they would surely burst
and
it’s that uncontrollable laughter that kept us alive
I
smelled of funnel cake, candy corn and cotton candy
So
sweet, bees would follow me for I was their treat
and I’d be busy trying to swat them off
At
Coney Island I would make my sand castles with my favorite shovel and pail
Then
I found out I could bring the ocean home with me
My
bag full of a variety of seashells
I
would listen into the shells my face and ear pressed up against it
And
I’d be back at the beach once again
I
would ride the Ferris wheel up to the tippy top
Overlooking
all the people resembling ants
My
dear mother by my side, with her I was fearless
Stress
free I was careless
The
red cart was my favorite, so I’d wait patiently for it to come back down
At
the park I would swing and swing so high
No
limits with hopes of reaching the sky
Feet
back, feet forward, feet back, feet forward
And
I would frolic through the freshly fallen leaves
Water
droplets so neat glazing their exteriors
And
I would collect them
Searching
for the “crispiest” one
Red and juicy as an apple
The
next month I would become a snow angel,
Hiding
behind snow forts, a neighborhood warzone
Girls
against boys, best friends against neighbors
I
would put a cup outside my window to collect fresh snow
Then
I’d bring it inside and put milk and sugar in it
I
always admired snowflakes, there’s this funny thing about ‘em
Where
when they’re falling in groups you can barely spot their individual beauty
Their
astonishing shapes and patterns I would only notice when a single one fell on
my face
There’s
beauty in numbers they say
But
these snowflakes were even better alone
Sheets
of snow pasted against the cars
Their
glitter shining
Then
the snow would clear and the birds would chirp
The
dreaded bugs would come back
And
life started all over again
These
cycles in repeat makes me question whether or not there really is an end
