This poem is about growing up, and using our experiences as writers.

In The Words We Write

By
Carmen Ruggero

Remember when kisses
Were chocolate in silver wrapping?
When girls were soft and sweet,
But hideous to your lips?

Remember clouds like cotton puffs
Changing shape before your eyes?
Some were angels; some were monsters.
A lady sleeping, and a man with a big hat?

The moon was made of cheese,
And its ruler a big rat.
Remember thinking your wish came true
When you saw a falling star?

What were your wishes then?
What did you see in your mind’s eye?
When gazing beyond the silver speckled
Blanket of darkness on the night?

Were they dreams of Christmas Eve,
When all was quiet through the house?
And you stood on the promise that St. Nick
Would visit that very night?

Or dreams of resting on mamma’s lap?
She gently rocked you to sleep that night,
And you listened to her heartbeat,
While she tenderly caressed your brow.

Remember climbing a tree,
Wading on the creek,
Thinking childhood was forever.
A never-ending loop of glee?

Then meeting that little guy
Who moved down the street?
His name was ‘friend’, your first,
And yours to keep.

Remember the dialog by the fishing hole?
He liked Julie, with the long shiny braids?
And you liked the fish you’d just caught,
Cause lassies, were not yet in your thoughts.

And then there was loneliness,
When surely, in the exchange,
You discovered the moon was made of rock,
And St. Nick, a story on a white Christmas night.

Remember how hurtful it was,
When childish illusions were cast aside,
When fantasy left your dreams
But you weren’t yet a man?

Remember that space in time,
The pushing, the pulling
Relinquishing, discovering;
That place called growing up?

But in that place, if you remember,
A different kind of magic came about.
Pencil in hand, you took those childish dreams,
And began to give them form at last.

Oh my friend, it’s lonely growing up.
Right down scary growing old.
But the thoughts we share,
In the words we write,

Recapture every moment we’ve lived.
Laughter, and tears we’ve cried.
The secrets we’ve shared,
And those we kept close to our hearts.

So, the endless loop is true : we’re still little ones.
Because memories of chocolate kisses
And puffy cotton clouds come through our thoughts,
In the words we write.


Carmen Ruggero © 2002