Journal

childhood

this is a poem that i had to write for my english class. the teacher was very specific about almost everthing, i kinda messed up but whatever.


Childhood was a time of black and white,
before color mattered, we were all the same.
Life was a blur of careless bliss,
before knowledge and skill counted,
on the field we were all comfortable as equals.
All I have now is memories and dreams.

I walked nervously up to the home plate,
“Pitcher gotta big butt!” my team called out.
With a crack then swish the ball flies unseen,
Finally, the home run I had dreamt of.
Grinning, I ran like a fox from danger.
All I have now is memories and dreams.

I shade my eyes, right field now belongs to me.
The cotton clouds in the distance are all I see.
This is where I have my deep thoughts,
from here all my friends look like brown blots.
I squint, the light seems to be a bunch of flashlight
beams.
All I have now are memories and dreams.

I fight the urge to sit down;
I don’t want my pants to be the reddish brown
color of the sand.
The wind blowing through the trees sounds like
classmates’ whispers.
There is a faint sound of buzzing bees.
A ball flies in from nowhere and introduces its self
to my head.
All I have now is memories and dreams.

My life was only a game
Where all were winners.
I was sadly mistaken.