Here I am contemplating
my navel, an
exercise of the mind, bathing in memories.
How they fly about these days
as I enter the cusp
of my time on this fine earth
when my youth shattered the earth with
exuberance---fishing, wrestling
and running with friends, adventures
with daring, like the time a carbon-breathing
locomotive chased us across a trestle,
me earning the name ‘piss-pants’
after that fateful day---
once a girl my age of ten held a buttercup
under my chin, me staring at her
pretty eyes, not understanding why
at the time as she said yellow
showing on my skin meant I liked butter,
something we couldn’t afford, only margarine.
© Richard L. Provencher
Comments
maisie | June 23, 2011 - 19:55
i remember doing the buttercup thingy, did no one ever do the dandilion thing?
lol perhaps in the context of the second stanza its as
well if they didn't
i enjoyed your poem for itself as well as what it brought back for me personally.
thanks
Richard L. Prov... | June 25, 2011 - 23:59
Thank you, Maisie, for your kind comments. I am not sure it if this poem needs another line to finalize the end. Any suggestions? Thanks, Richard LP