Hark!

Whose silhouette is this

cast by the summer sun

amongst the fields of barley

in which i do now run?

i do not recognize its shape

and know it to be me

no longer is it young and slender

how i ‘member it to be.

it appears to now be owned

by a large and older man

whose body was formed

by eating flavored Pringles from a can.

my thoughts go back to when i was young

and i remember in my mind

how most

if not all

of my time was spent magically outside.

of running through the woods

and digging in the dirt.

of throwing rocks at each other

not caring if we got hurt.

how we climbed the old oak tree

until her branches began to sag,

night brings fireflies

pop-a-wheelies

and games of T.V. Tag (oh, i’ve forgotten how to play!)

i reach down now

to smell the earth

like a baker smells his pie

and like an Indian watching someone litter

a tear rolls down my eye.

for i have veered far away from childhood

and the lessons that i knew

that being out in God’s fresh air

was the rightist thing to do.

Snapshot from my childhood. How I miss Florissant and it's beauty.

I would like to thank Sting, The Chicago Park District and Pop-Tarts for the inspiration of this poem.

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