My Childhood Pathways
Oh, that magical age of 5 -that long-ago time
when memory sharpens and events recalled
get compartmentalized into something more
than mere wisps of mist! Infancy’s vast fog lifts!
My own childhood more vividly recalled began with a country lane
which took my younger sisters and me away from grandpa’s yellow house
past berry bushes and rows upon rows of corn; how happily we meandered.
A year passed. Away from Grandpa’s farm, I got to know new pathways.
These were the streets of my new home city, where my mother remarried.
I walked a labyrinth of new streets, alongside new siblings as well!
In winter’s frigid cold, I’d trudge the many blocks to school and back.
In summer’s heat, my many siblings and I would traipse three mile
just to relish swimming at the pool, licking ice cream cones on our way home.
Poor - but not in spirit - we walked and walked and walked. . .
My 13th year, I walked all my city’s streets selling Christmas cards in summer.
Boils festered on my arms, but I was determined to cover all my town.
That fall, I bought myself a purple bike with the money I had saved.
Another magical year it was! As my life picked up speed,
I left my childhood behind -
pedaling up grueling hills, then racing gleefully down them.
Nov. 28, 2018
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