A Poem by Jeff Loquist


city streets
drift away to rolling hills
of childhood
as concrete steps
resemble oak tree forests
and i dream
of simple conversations
with blades of grass
to an eight year old's

© 2010 Jeff Loquist

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man, when i was 8 every carpet flew, and the trees were full of fairies. each stranger was a world of mystery, all the clouds were messengers from the far reaches of time, dripping secrets, and all the stars were diamonds.
... i was going to be a cowboy. and a secret agent.
how small we grow.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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. well, i'm nine ... tall for my age ... but this still sounds like a lot of fun ...

Posted 10 Years Ago

as cleanly beautiful as a free afternoon skipping down the street, and taking chances stepping on the cracks

Posted 10 Years Ago

refreshingly beautiful

Posted 10 Years Ago

this is so beautiful~ imagination is the magik of childhood that carries over into adulthood if we just pause for quick moment and step outside the tigtened lines into those fields of yesteryear where even flying was a possibility~ gorgeous~

Posted 10 Years Ago

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5 Reviews
Added on November 5, 2010
Last Updated on November 5, 2010


Jeff Loquist
Jeff Loquist

Baton Rouge, LA

Writer, photographer, artist, old, tired, medicated (sometimes), irritated, (most times) more..


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