Corduroy Pants

The edges of my corduroy pants were wet

when I’d come home with my bicycle.

Nobody ever knew where I went,
and brought back stories of angels
watching over suburbs so that the
demons couldn’t touch us.

It was when the rain settled
on the asphalt I would look for treasure,
in the puddles where I dipped my fingers
to streak my face with mud.
And when it first snowed I embraced
the flakes with my arms and kissed
the earth below so that I tasted the dirt
and it tasted better than anything.

It was there where I found myself
hitting sticks against the branches
that always fought back
but never gave way
to the poundings of my soul.

Author's Note

this piece is part of a set, you can find the rest here http://cosmindzs.blogspot.ca/

Reviews

[anna]

I've been writing in this basic style lately also, and I'm glad you enjoy it too. You've done really well with the imagery, good job. c:

[Tina Louise UK]

Beautiful memories..really enjoyed :) x

[Madalyn Beck]

"It was there where I found myself
hitting sticks against the branches
that always fought back
but never gave way
to the poundings of my soul."

This is so beautiful and touching and I can envision everything you described in this poem. It takes me back to simpler times as a child. I love this. Great write!

[CosminDZS]

I hope you relived some wonderful memories Madalyn, thank you for the comment :)

[Sami Khalil]

"And when it first snowed I embraced
the flakes with my arms and kissed
the earth below so that I tasted the dirt
and it tasted better than anything."

A beautiful soulful write. The paths we take, the encounters, the angaelic whispers, the tracing of our identity. A splendid poem. :).........

[CosminDZS]

Thank you Sami, I'm trying to be more sincere and stick to basic emotion.

[Sami Khalil]

Good. You are welcome...:)....................