Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Poetic Asides Tired


No Sleeping Pills Necessary

As kids, we’d run barefoot
through the grass,
over bridges,
and even pebbled drives.
We’d play in the creek,
roll in tires and boxes down hills.
We’d hike
and bike
and swim
and roller skate
and swing on grape vines
and fling crabapples at each other
and explore the hills, creeks and woods.
We’d play ball, badminton, and croquet,
chase fireflies and capture peep frogs.
We’d play Statue, Tag, and Hide and Seek
and pretend we were on the old shows,
Gilligan Island, The Man from Uncle, and Star Trek.
We’d sled in the winter,
and build snowmen and snow forts
and have snowball fights.
We’d get roped into garden work,
washing cars, raking leaves, gathering nuts.
And when our heads hit our pillows at nights,
no counting sheep for us.
We’d know nothing till morning.

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