A Poem for a Sunday

been awhile since I posted a poem here. This one isn't an outright PC related one, but I think some of us might feel this way.
Enjoy,
Andrew


A Walk by the Lake

Remember the playful days of youth when the sun
shone down on green fields.
When you’d run so fast
that the wind would blow in your hair.

The joy of rolling down a grassy hill
or skipping a stone across the creek.
The quest for a four-leaf clover in a field of blue grass.

The freedom of not knowing the price
of the snow cones and pink popcorn
that mother bought from the snack shack.

That snack shack, right there.
Right there behind that decaying wall,
on that concrete slab behind the chain link fence

Wonder when they tore it out?
The new boathouse is looking old
on this cloudy morning.

The sign says we can’t feed the ducks.
Mother use to bring a bag of bread crusts.
Remember how fast they’d gather at the promise of that bag?

Guess the sun won’t be joining us this morning.
Yes, we should go back, before bodies fail
and hearts move too far into the past.

Andrew - I read this on your blog. Having grown up in the big city, I didn't have the same sort of experiences, but your writing brought your experiences immediately and clearly to mind. As I read, I felt a peaceful feeling descend upon me. As I got to the end, I thought "Yes, he's right. Don't stay here too long. Just enjoy it and don't get too deep into the past."

Thanks for posting it. You helped my day start off a bit more serenely. In today's world, that has great value.

Thanks folks. Glad you liked this on.

and 81 - always grateful for your analysis of my words. I tend not to think of structure until the first rewrite. My first thought is always creating a feeling or image.

Andrew

Glad you enjoyed it.
Andrew