I'm not sure why sunny days are so nostalgic. I'm also unaware if this is specific to me. Maybe the warmth of the sun, the scent of the air, the sway of the leaves somehow make me young again. I realize that I'm no old man, but it's all in proportion. It feels like a lifetime since I last turned over a rock and happily stared wide-eyed at an earthworm. Since I last looked at a frog and saw magic. Since I last cared more about what was in my hand than in my pocket.
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Author:
ezra.mendoza (
Offline) - Published: July 9th, 2017 21:18
- Comment from author about the poem: Written in a treehouse on a particularly sunny day
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
Offline)
Comments4
A fine poem, well beyond your 16 years, Ezra. I enjoyed it and look for more.
Really nice
Good write, these feelings increase with age and I have 50 years on you. Enjoy each moment of your life and never leave any stone unturned, the wonder beneath each rock can be magical.
I remember being very young. and your poem strikes a bell well within me. I did feel different in my mind. I can remember how I saw things. and the state of my mind at the time. I will always cherish these memories.
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