1968
My t-shirt had holes, and my jeans had some patches.
My feet were bare, and my elbows both had scratches.
The grownups were all indoors and the kids were out of sight.
'Twas a perfect childhood, 'neith a sun that shined so bright.
As we rode our bikes to the beach in nineteen sixty eight,
we felt the sea breeze on our faces. Everything was great.
Blissfully unaware of the nightmare in the jungle land,
I collected seashells in the Southern California sand.
My parents called me inside, with news, one cloudy day,
about the blast that blew my happy childhood away.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.