..."LEAVING BEHIND THE HUSKS OF OUR GOLDEN DREAMS"....AND ENTERING INTO THE TWILIGHT OF OUR SILVER LININGS.

EXQUISITE, AS ALWAYS, PETER. my blessings ~ rhonda

Not gone, Luv. Part of you! And being part of you, it is
beautiful and poignant and. . .full of life!! Tears and laughter
sides of the same coin. No way we are throwing it away. Right?
Love you, 'Pea'

You brought back lots of memories there. Great write!
Birgit and Roger

Even an empty schoolyard reverberates with the voices of children. I remember little soap opera dramas carried out there, as competitions raged, girls vamped, and bullies did what they had to do.

A smaller slice of the larger world...

Ron

It seems this is the case Peter. Excellent!

Yet, dearest Peter, beyond the nostalgia and the disenchantment, I sense in your spirit much of that capacity to still fall in love and fall in wonder that we all had when we were just children. And I sense that beyond the consciousness of the mirages, you still believe in the beauty of pursuing dreams - and making them real.
Love&Light* & Dreams that never fade,
Alexandra*

Nostalgic this is beautiful Peter, You capture so much here in this poem the emotions are so well expressed.
Love,
Joselyn

it takes an inspired man to be able to look through the eyes of a child and remember the differences are still the same ...

Nothing could ever be more grand
Than the essence of Love found
In just holding hands.
©2006 Joseph* ~ OneLight*®

Such sweet memories you've penned here, dear Peter.

Love & Light,
Joseph

Those were the days!!

Sighhhh....thanks for sharing Peter!!

Love Tinka

Ab-so-lutely! We all have said the same. We will never be like our parents. Still, time has a way of making liars out of us most definitely. Old dreams are forgotten or ignored. The art of living comes into play and suddenly we say things like, "This generation, they are nuts, craziods and the world is going to hell in a handbasket." Oops! Seems we have heard that before . . . From our parents, maybe?

Puppy Love, our youth, and things that once were - lots of memories truly worth savoring, Peter.

You take me right there, Peter.. and some of us "puppies" never grow up, but continue into our adult lives fumbling about in the chaotic ruff and tumble of the "Sweet Sixteens"! Nicely captured, thank you. Kate xx

Peter,

You've opened many memories with this deeply moving, profound write, especially with

"...and the ghosts of yesterday had come out to play
reopening the scars within my heart...."

Memories of bullies...teasing...being the last one picked...sad.

Still and all, a great write. Everyone's memories are different.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

The power of words from the heart of a poet to conjure up emotions that make our souls soar with memory! You led me back to my own schooldays, Peter.

*I repassed later, and all was quiet and still
a deathly hush had settled all around
and the ghosts of yesterday had come out to play
reopening the scars within my heart*

Priceless words that immortalize our past. Well done.

Peace. Joyce

ah, to be young again, those were the days! wonderful reflective write; very well penned, peter!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in america, karen lynn in texas. :D

reflection, takes for the rides, our soul does thirst, but recall, is elusive, a shadow , at best, yet in their travels take us , we know it was, just so. Art

The awe in you Peter is of the child. This is a quality so dear and special for it is a priceless quality most adults lose during maturity. Most of the older folks becaome stale with their passions for wonder but, thank God...you have the heart of the child and this makes you unique and your poetry priceless.
Susan

All just a mirage...as is all of life, and yet you own the memories, Peter. I love the stark contrast you paint here between childhood bliss and adult pain.

Gina

Peter what great imagery! And you capture so well the bitterseet in present and past. Superb poem!

eT

excellent write

((((( beautiful, glorious sentiments, Peter ))) Incredibly powerful how you came across in this write..It breathed it's life acros my face.. Brings back painful memories too of puppy love, yet not all my memorires were painful too..Some were extremly glorious.. The wondrous, magical experience of love, each and everyone left always diamonds in my spirit crown..I know the happiest I was, Peter, was when I was in the creek with five million diffrent kinds God made rocks and jumping frogs.. I would laugh like there was an explosion of giggles at the jumping frogs, lol..I loved looking at all the diffrent shapes and colors of each brilliant form of rock..And then I would sing about dreams for hours and hours..I was the dreamer, wishing magic, adventure...My wish on my sixth birthday was just to have a million balloons I could release and watch em fly high, much like my spirit to where their spirits wanted to go.. I sure knew I was guarded by the angelic realm everywhere, my gifts, they began to explode..The most peaceful place I know is in the streams with the rocks and frogs..That place eased my pain of everything..Your beautiful poem reminded me of yes the past and still all the good God gifted me as the wonderer..

(((Love & Peace, Dove )))