SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘growing up’

Growing Up

(I apologize for the previous post which is now deleted…it was meant to be posted on my craft blog!)

Norfolk Botanical Gardens 2 179

When there is no room

for dandelions or clover,

they move on to roses.

Sooner or later

they will get pricked by the

thorns of daily life.

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Tiny Fingers

Tiny fingers

Fragile as twigs

Soft as feathers

Warm like the rising sun

Tiny fingers that fit inside of mine

Rub my cheek and arm

Tiny fingers I think

Could never cause harm

Tiny fingers

Curl up in sleep

As they twirl my hair

They wave to and fro

In goodbye and hello

They patty cake and roll

And often grab more than they can hold

They wipe away childish tears

Can’t quite hold back all their fears

Tiny fingers

Hold tight to kites and ice cream cones

And endlessly tug and pull at my heart

Tiny fingers smear paint across the page

They tighten and grip in a fit of rage

Tiny fingers that pinch and grab

And snap and clap to song

Tiny finger that race hot wheels

Through the sandbox all day long

Tiny fingers learn so much

Through the years and all they touch

Tiny fingers, all dimpled and pudgy

Oh, how I remember those tiny fingers

That somehow grew into the man you’ve become

A Childhood Home Revisited

Once upon a time there was a grand estate

Built for the plant manager in that day

And through the years, as is one’s fate

The luster and prestige time wore away

 

The proper and regal style of Queen Anne

With three porches and gabled roof of slate

Gave way to hide and seek and kick the can

With various occupants from 1890 to date

 

Intricate carved mantles and floors of wood

Marble counters and bedroom window seats

All the years of growing up, bad and good

And everything in between that life repeats

 

Once a home to Doc and Skeleton Joe

With treasures hidden in attic walls

And stories no one will ever know

And spookiness of creaks and calls

 

Daffodil lined sidewalk made of soapstone

That scraped knees and absorbed tears

And many hours one sat there all alone

Spilling the secrets of private teenage years

 

A parented-fortress for those who lived inside

Iron guarded fortress for those who wanted in

For each generation, a new set of rules to abide

A place for living, loving, and laughter to begin

 

Just a building into a home people made

A place for a family to convene and rest

Little by little, the pieces begin to fade

No lilacs nor daffodils survived time’s test

 

Now a monument of memories childhood

A reflection of us forging through the years

And hanging on to values for which we stood

A collection of our blood, sweat, and tears

****This is my childhood home up until about age ten. I visited it as an adult. I must say things look quite different through an adults eyes…not nearly as such from the memory of a child. things no longer seemed as large or scary. I can can only wonder how much of my memory is real and how much is imagined.

Monday’s Poetry Potluck theme: “Fortresses, Buildings, and Monuments”

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