Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2017
A kid can flee so easily
Running out the open door.
They’ll climb a tree and find a world
So different than before.

Some dig a hole and pile up snow
To make themselves a fort
Or take their leave across the fields;
A different kind of sport.

Crawling through the hayfields,
Picking berries in the grass.
Celebrating little streams;
Watching them flow past.

Cats and dogs and little frogs
Birds and squirrels and ponies
Draped in mirth and soiled with dirt
The earth is not so lonely

Stepping through the stony fields
Hoping that first kiss will last
Playing past the summer glow
The days flow by, it starts to snow

Suddenly a memory grows
It grows into a dream
Moving on into the haze
Entranced we fail to count the days

It’s just a game we have to play
The rhythm of the years descend
Pretending all the dreams are real
We pass our time inside the wheel

Then at last, in the light of day
We look around and feel the sound
Of the trumpets blaring in our ears
Gently teasing all our fears

We deny the facts but that won’t last
Stemming tears we’ve gathered here
Passing time inside our minds
Believing things we cannot find

So clouds drift by, time ticks away
The games we played are getting older
From little kids just playing soldier
The world now sits upon our shoulders
This is an excerpt from the book I'm working on from the part delving into my childhood and the act of growing up.
Richard Grahn
Written by
Richard Grahn  58/M/Chicago
(58/M/Chicago)   
216
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems