Time Past

Time past Now that I have stopped writing I can say I never cared for rhyming poems, that tend to make me irritable. I have tried to overcome my petulance by not eating a bottle of aspirin but the furthest I got was haiku which need not rhyme. I can´t stop my head from writing sometimes it composes poems in my sleep which I could have written down, but refrain from doing since I have stopped my verbal creations. From my window, I can see the petrol station not a work of art, but I can see children splashing about in the pool and long for home. I prefer to see children at a distance, near they make me nervous, which is wrong I remember my childhood with trepidation Arguing adults and bombs that fell at night, a flash of light scanning the sky and the darkness were total. For bathing children, life is better, but they too fear the adults.