Tag Archives: Childhood

That House

I remember running around that house
The one with the tall, high windows,
The sunken lounge,
And the ‘good’ couch.
The house my sister and I would play
Bank tellers,
Click Clacking on Guess Who boards,
Using Monopoly money,
And asking people to “Hold”
On our imaginary hand telephones.
The house of loud voices,
Big arguments, distended veins
And a scar on my top eyebrow
When the door opened angrily
And made me bleed.
The house of spilled noodles and water,
Of angry voices and early mornings.
The house of refuge
From backyard bullies,
The twins who would jump
From trampoline to six year old me,
The boy with bad hands
And scary eyes.
The house with a stained glass window,
A perfect red rose,
That my mother designed,
The last piece of creation
Left unbroken
In a house where it all fell apart.

Sweet Keeper

A humming line
A chipped clay cup
Sweet jasmine air
Dark bitter tea
Large leaf breeze
Small bird twitters
A paintbrush
Black drops
On cream parchment
A whispered kiss
Upon childhood cheek
And laughter
Upon the wind
And into the memories
She keeps

A Child In Mind

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I imagine the day
Where the butter bugs play
Down by the fiery moon
And dragons all slay
The bad men in the way
With fierce justice
And honour true

In my head I can be
All that I see
Imagination creating the rest
The world plays for me
With whatever I need
I am the biggest,
The brightest, the best

By the garden I laugh
Across snails path
No matter the time outside
I have always one last
Spell to be cast
Magically small
In the garden I hide