back when we were baby birds
feeding each other
cold spaghetti worms
in grass clipping nests
empty summer stretched in front of us
stale plastic wading pools
pressing yellow circles
into grass
that smelled like wet bandaids
during a game of hide-and-seek
dust bunnies behind the chest
full of old prom dresses
in the upstairs hall
mouse droppings
in the basement
pits from sour cherries
scattered on the back steps
scraps of soggy paper
dried into small sculptures
under the weeping willow tree
revealing part of each original message
mommy is . . .
. . . ate my cookie
I hope Sharon . . .
my doll doesn’t . . . your doll . . .
summer just an empty cup
we filled each day
with the long summer rains
of daydreams.
The prompt today way fragrance. Since I have to leave soon for the first day of Campamento Estrella, here’s a poem I wrote so long ago that I’d totally forgotten it. I’ll post photos of camp later today.
So exactly like childhood! Charming photo.
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Thanks, Jilly. We kept that baby bird alive for almost a week but alas, he eventually didn’t make it. He has a little grave in my marble planter down in my garden.
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This is a wonderful comparison of children and childhood to baby birds!
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Pingback: Fragrance, Fetor . . . Same Difference. – TyroCharm
This brought back a flood of memories.
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