Poetic Memory

At times my soul aches, from poetries loss, how poetic the soul, how pathetic the heart. Longingly I search for the balm of my soul, Giliad hides the cure. Poetic my life, poetic. As a child all life was poetic, the fairies and friends of the forest where mine. With fanciful names and fanciful fears we played many games and shed many tears. The trees held our secrets like the tree old as time. Under that tree we held as a shrine, a place for our pets beloved and true, Spooky and Precious and even fish too. In other times our childish ways, led to great battles that lasted for days. My brother and I would fight many crimes, with our guns that had caps and our brave police hats. Round fabulous piles of rubble we played, we sometimes built forts, and sometimes found caves. The bushes we played in were overgrown, but at times, they served a good purpose in our nursery rhymes. Sailing along, in a ship made of wood, we were out to find treasure, it was going to be good. We had many things brought along for the trip, all the accoutrements for a good pirate ship. A picnic, some plates, a table for two, but wait I don’t want to play house with you. Then came the snow and away we shall go. Out come the skis, then hats, and boots if you please. Our fairy land is transformed it is true, down fairy hill, first me and then you. We ski till our noses are red, and snow covers the hair on top of our head. So into the house, we march along, singing Jingle Bells our favorite song. Hot cocoa is called for we prepare it with ease, then suddenly feel a cold winter breeze. Quick shut the door, you forgot it! No you! But quickly forget our cold and fight too. Down falls the snow, we snuggle in bed. Beautiful snow dreams soon fill our head, childhood, childhood where have you gone? My soul will miss you, then to sleep, then to dream, in memory my soul will long.