All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Back When
Mommy and Daddy read aloud,
of how Peter Rabbit ran along.
Swallowed did the car become,
in replayed alphabet song.
Garnished Easter eggs are painted,
bright like Hungry ‘Pillar munching,
much on leaves that once were his,
Tiny fingers can’t help but touching.
Hues of orange and pink and purple,
Thread the seams of life today.
The yellow sponge of underwater,
Has yet to slowly slip away.
Gifted were the presents, but
Boxes were the gifts,
Back when we played within a land
of only whats and ifs.
Nights of darkness threatened,
But brilliant nightlights warned,
That if bad passed into our realm,
Squabby soldiers would swarm.
Sleeping soundly were the monsters,
Beneath beds of knights and queens.
Flicked on quickly was the lamplight,
by Daddy who heard your screams.
Arms of warmth drape around you,
Your head nestles into his neck,
Crying softer now, you see his sleeve
Puddled in all of your wet.
Years ago we always said,
How we wanted to grow up.
As I grew older I quickly knew,
That younger was not as tough.
Perhaps I grew up in stature,
in height, and weight, and ears.
But over time it’s who you are
That tells of the coming years.
My mind’s grown wiser with each hand,
Which won’t stop ticking until we stand
On the shores of an island far far away
Looking down on the people still who stay.
I have yet to grow up in spirit,
I will never cease to pretend.
So, let’s tie our shadows to our feet,
And remain children at heart instead.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.