Again And Again

poetry in progress childhood days are roses and thorns they comprise memories light as the roll of one marble as well as heavy as a bag full of the blue white gleaming rolly pollies sitting so quietly in the old store room childhood is full of schemes marbles - we made sure the other boys are emptied of theirs kites - we made sure the string of their kites snap, kite flying away like a helpless chinese princess pigeons - one was downed by us so that its mate waited for it one whole day on the precipice of a roof one memory i wish to tear to shreds dragonflies - in my hands they ate each other up childhood is festooned with lessons both inside and outside the classroom with the two legged, four legged, the hornbills, doggies, and those with no legs but then morphed into the best hoppers - frogs, toads and grasshoppers to teach us never to underestimate the poorest of anything arithmetics, music, football or paintballs childhood lane a ball floating and sinking a patch here and there, a lake, a stream, a river - so many fishes had splashed their tails and now only concretes to make the memory jump a cry, a lane, a walk, a pet, a church, a school, mother's hand holding so tight, shaking, and still elucidating her discomforts, and those yelps of puppies there, here, here there we had more than five doggies all those years winding through there, here a range of sepia, black and white, chromes, working themselves into an abstract marbles rolling onto empty canvas - light and ever so desirable these bonuses at children's alleyway dates - rolling ever still rolling the drive that reels and roils the mind going back is the same as moving forward there is never a point in time we can rest on