childhood

those days the sun flew like corn flour
freshly ground at the mill’s race
even in winter it was yellow
when I pressed it down with my thumb
as if it were an unfastened button on my chest

I cut my way hardly with a club
through the tall weed field
until my knee high socks
were filled with thistle tassels
jumping over the fence like a thief
so no one knew where I was

when the Big Dipper rose over the barn
I slipped on the manger’s opening
inside freshly cut grass
stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking
singing for the young foal with a star on its front

those days all hearts were red and warm
in the shape of a ginger bread heart
each star was a story
whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade

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Categories: My Poems in 2012 | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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