Back in the days when we played in the attic
When we were all small and loved the hair static
We'd make fun of looks and laugh at our faces
We'd hoodwink the image of dusty old traces
Those trunks of our childhood
They held old folks dreams
We'd squeal when it'd open from curious screams
The joys of a button all tarnished and old
We hoped for lost treasure...we wanted the gold
Our fantasies laughed and let go emotions
We dusted off shells...that echoed the ocean
Moth-eaten hats and fedora feathers
Rusty old hinges and worn out old leather
Stuff of a lifetime in rotting old wood
Memories keeping good children good
When rainy day moments sent smiles to the top
That held old folks dreams in heated old lofts
Where children found images decked out in dreams
From years long ago among moments with things
That housed love and glory...the patriot's vote
The red white and blue that sheltered their hopes
The past of a dynasty dressed up to there
Kids all in smiles amid dreams of lost years
Those rainy day moments when we dallied inside
We played hide and seek with broomsticks our ride
The friends that were there the siblings who played
In rainy day times where our memory strayed.
Beutiful, nostalgic look at more innocence days. While little girls were busy playing putting on grown-up faces little boys were throwing up little pieces of rock and hitting it with their broomstick bats and dreaming of one day playing in the World Series. Enjoyed this.
A mesmerizing and nostalgic trip down memory lane in this brilliant pen..
You invoke sweet memories of a childhood past, when tresses, sugar pie and honey were the vogue, and children were children, who had to make their own forms of amusement...
This is definitely a keeper from your accomplished pen, Susan
Love,Peace and Harmony
Peter
Oh wow Susan this is fantastic, I could feel the mustiness of the attic and smell the tangy smell of moth balls. I have read a lot of childhood refelctive poems but this is by far one of the best. Well done dear friend.
You capture those precious memories of long ago brilliantly; well done. Our folks wouldn't let us play in the attic, guess they were afraid we'd fall through. Plus, the wasps loved to make their homes up there, and we were terrified of getting stung, so we listened to our parents. :)
Oh! Susan! - This one is an all-time keeper! How wonderfully you describe it all. Only once did we have an attic when I was the best age for such, but oh, we had extra rooms, basements, storage bins, and the like. You created it so well, I'm sitting here smelling the contents of my early-on life. Your pen is surely, Magic! I thank you for this one, Sweet Lady! - Bill
GLIMPSE OF AN ANGEL IS NOW AVAILABLE. A PORTION OF ALL SALES WILL GO TO HOSPICE TO THUS ENABLE THEM TO HELP OTHERS WHO ARE SOON TO PASS TO THE OTHER SIDE. NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
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Ron
Lvoe Tinka
You invoke sweet memories of a childhood past, when tresses, sugar pie and honey were the vogue, and children were children, who had to make their own forms of amusement...
This is definitely a keeper from your accomplished pen, Susan
Love,Peace and Harmony
Peter
Fee
You capture those precious memories of long ago brilliantly; well done. Our folks wouldn't let us play in the attic, guess they were afraid we'd fall through. Plus, the wasps loved to make their homes up there, and we were terrified of getting stung, so we listened to our parents. :)
((((HUGS)))) and love, Karla.
Eileen