Child's Eyes

May 11, 2009

When I was young,
A baby,
I was peaceful and calm.
Through my eyes I could see beyond,
The warmth of the suns rays,
They permeated the room through the window,
The rich velvety feel to the air,
The birds chirp,
The tingling shivers down my small fragile spine.
I saw the white windows,
And the white platform extended in front of me,
Held no distraction from the green avocado’s on a spoon,
That whizzed towards me with an adoring hand.

When I was young,
I loved adventure,
And the sharp almost-painful wind confirmed our speed.
Adrenaline rushed through me,
My blood pumped faster then the cars we easily passed,
My breath fogged the helmet,
Even through its thickness,
I could hear the protest of car tiers.
The smell of fresh cold, cold air went through the tiny helmet vents.
And for the first time,
With a yearning for freedom,
I let go.

When I was young,
I felt alone,
My legs shook with more then shivers from the relentless cold,
The thud of rain joined in harmony, to my cry’s in sorrow.
Other then that, and eerie quiet dawned,
Alone quite alone,
And quite irate,
So sad that anger could brew,
Could stab at the confusion my new clarity caused.
I smelled the salt I tasted from tears
And I felt the loss,
The loss I had never understood till then.

When I was young,
I learned to heal,
This was the best place for healing,
After all my sorrow,
I was beginning to feel peace,
The swirling water around my knee’s,
Was as cold as the rocks beneath my feet,
The air had a warm summer’s breeze,
The stars danced elegantly above my head,
But seemed to hang low.
Pine needles scented the air,
And some flowed past me down river.
Hundreds of colors,
Cast from the sunset,
Washed around with harmony,
Closing my eyes,
I finally found what I had lost,
Every happy memory,
Raced through me, filling me up.
I felt everything good in this world,
From my tired head, to my bare soles,
And I realized I was home,
This how I felt was home,
And no place could tie me down
And this,
These are the moments we need,
These are the moments we live for.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!