A poem about growing up and remembering the good times.
Bright shiny new marbles, we knew just what to do
Bro and I slid them against the door, they went smack clickety clack
as we just laughed and rolled some more...
The year was 1967 and the colors in our head had wit and sparkle
we rolled them in the heel of our hand turning them to the light
we would play for hours and never fight;
Then one day we grew old and the marbles were put away
I moved down South and Tony stayed in my childhood quarter
Today I pray each day that as the years go by, I won't begin to cry
over a lost marble or two, when the cells won't multiply
We had life in the palm of our hand but we were too young to know
that sooner or later, we had to change and grow...
A wonderful childhood memory that is a metaphor for losing what we cherished in our youth. I remember the marbles that I collected. Don't even know what happened to them.
On the other hand, no one wants to figuratively, "lose their marbles." But apparently that may be happening to your brother as another part of this poem calls out.
I used to love marbles. I had quite a collection. Your poem awakens memories of childhood. It is unfortunate that, as children, we are so eager to "grow up" that we do not realize enough about life that the time of childhood may be the best of all the times of life. I guess that is why I don't mind when at times, some ask me if I ever plan to grow up. 🤣😂 Love, peace, and best wishes to you, "Mystic Rose."
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On the other hand, no one wants to figuratively, "lose their marbles." But apparently that may be happening to your brother as another part of this poem calls out.
Ron
Regis 🌺🙏💚🌳🌲