childhood

those days the sun flew like corn flour

freshly ground at the mill’s race

even in winter it was yellow 

when I pressed it down with my thumb

as if it were an unfastened button on my chest

 

I cut my way hardly with a club

through the tall weed field

until my knee high socks

were filled with thistle tassels

jumping over the fence like a thief

so no one knew where I was

 

when the Great Bear rose over the barn

I slipped on the manger’s opening

inside freshly cut grass

stealing my grandma’s small chair for milking 

singing for the young foal with a star on its front

 

those days all hearts were red and warm

in the shape of a ginger bread heart

each star was a story

whispered by fairies in the daffodils’ glade

Reviews

[Marie]

How wonderful that must have been...you have such memories to cherish...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Indeed, it was a beautiful and magical childhood, the source of inspiration for many of my poems. Thank you very much, Marie.