Childhood Memories

Poetry

Nedelcu Alina
Readers Hope
2 min readJan 15, 2024

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Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

In the splendid obscurity of former periods,
Where guiltlessness hit the dance floor with impermanent misgivings,
A weaving of memories twists around,
Of youthful life dreams and reap time leaves.

Under the sky blue skies so huge,
In resonations of the faraway past,
I track down a protected house, pure and splendid,
Where snickering sparkled, a coordinating light.

The meadows expanded, a material wide,
With dreams that time couldn’t segment,
A carousel of satisfaction and cheer,
A space where the substance is free.

In gardens washed in sunshine’s kiss,
We sought after the butterflies wrong,
Their delicate wings, a transitory view,
In the place of refuge where dreams appeared.

The old oak tree, a persevering buddy,
Its branches reach interminably,
Stood up concerning our mumbled stories,
Of secret wishes, like boats with sails.

The air was stacked up with puberty’s tune,
A melody that stands by lengthy,
In corners of the mind, it plays,
A gathering of our young days.

Sweet sleep time melodies of dusk’s embrace,
As shadows moved in a fragile marvel,
Extending frames on the material of time,
Where guiltlessness prospered flourishing.

Find the stowaway in the obscuring light,
A campaign in the sensitive dusk,
Inventive psyche painted on skies so tremendous,
As time halted, a subsequent cast.

Through the entries of memory’s maze,
I follow the method for those carefree days,
Of scratched knees and laughing’s specialty,
A work of art cut on the material of the heart.

The snickering of buddies, the mumbles of trees,
The scent of thoughtfulness conveyed by the breeze,
In the nursery of youth, where time gently wove,
The weaved craftsmanship of guiltlessness, limitless and stash.

By and by, as the reap time leaves softly fall,
I hear the resonations, the faraway call,
An indication of a period so wonderful,
Exactly when innocence and euphoria were mine.

In the assortment of the mind, pages turn,
Each memory is a fire, a light to consume,
Edifying the sections of the past,
Where puberty’s charm generally will persevere.

So let the mumbles of faultlessness stand by,
In the woven craftsmanship of the time, let them shimmer,
For in the space of a sweet dream,
Long-lasting memories dance unendingly.

What memories does the past evoke for you?

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