When…a poem

Balloons, Spring, Nature, Watercolour

when did we all stop running everywhere
when did we stop playing with balloons
believing that we could fly
when did we take on so much
that we forgot to
when did we stop jumping over things
climbing fences
and trees
when did we stop
being silly
and making tents
out of blankets
when did we give up
the magic
was it on a certain day
that our brain just dialed up
our hormones and said
and all of our dreams
suddenly turned
into something new
and our eyes no longer
looked at trees
and fences
the same way
did we get too BIG
to do those things
or were we forced
to forget
how much fun it was
to jump off of things
that were dangerous
and way too high to be safe
some of us still do silly things
but that wild sense of
that we had as kids
with nothing on our minds
but fun
lives mostly in the past
tucked neatly away
in the branches of the trees
we loved

This entry was posted in environment, Kids, Politics/Herstory and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to When…a poem

  1. Oh! this is so beautiful, I love the pic too!

  2. Morgana💜 says:

    Beautiful poetry✨✨

  3. Resa says:

    I’d say at 12 years.

    • Thank you, Resa. I think you’re right. I think it’s right around that time that we let go of things. Eleven-twelve. Sigh. I loved climbing trees so much and there was only one in my entire neighborhood. Believe it or not, there was an empty lot on my street. It was the only one I ever saw. It was a tiny wild place and it had one tree that was bit and old and I spent SO much time in it’s branches. Sometimes other kids were in it too. Then they built a house and I was heartbroken. I still remember how awful it was when they cleared that one magical spot of land. It was like a fairyland and all kinds of things grew there.

      • Resa says:

        I understand.
        We had a field across the street (9 years old). It was filled with wild wheat and weeds. I was in charge. No one, boy or girl challenged me. We all wanted the same thing…. to build a super home for all.
        So everyone gathered up the stalks of wheat and weeds. We built the castle up in layers, around a circle.
        We each had our own room, made private by walls of wild wheat. The walls were as high as a castle.
        I commandeered a garbage can lid for a door.
        It was a fortress, and everyone had a spot in our world.
        In my 40’s, on a visit to an aunt, she showed me an album from those days.
        The shot: 9 kids sitting in a circle, each facing in a different direction, in a field, with a rim of grasses around us. There was a garbage can lid leaning on it.

  4. What a truly wonderful story! I loved that so much and felt as if I were there. Just delightful and full of that thing we had as children. Beautiful.

  5. This is an amazing piece. Keep writing

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