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Things Change

Listen to poem:

The first bike I ever owned -- 
when I was ten or eleven --
was a Christmas gift
from a friend.  He was receiving a new one
and I was gifted with his old bike. 
He had cleaned it up and brush painted it 
with a nice coat of red paint.
It was the only gift I got that year,
one of my only gifts as a child.
I loved that bike:
it freed me to pedal around so
I could accompany my friend 
as we rode anywhere in our small,
sandy, two-paved-road fishing town. 
Before the bike, I ran alongside him.
I was quite accustomed
to running everywhere, barefoot and,
especially in summer, shirtless.   
Most  years from first grade 
until we were about twelve , 
we spent our time together,
at his house or in imaginary jungles
or wild, indian-infested wagon train trails
we defended from apaches
intent on taking our scalps. 
Sometimes, on pirate ships, we manned canons
and repelled boarders with our swords,
and forced reluctant traitors and mutineers
to walk the plank for failures and misdeeds. 
We were never bored , usually outdoors.
On jungle safaris we were frequently attacked
by ferocious lions and tigers and 
often captured by cannibal head-hunters
who put us into large pots to cook us
while dancing all around and brandishing
their spears.  They sang or chanted
amazing, invented language repetitive
verses overloaded with frequent "ughs'
and tongue-twisting nonsense phrases.
His mother served us gallons of Kool Aid,
gave us snacks we ate with relish.
With a child’s trusting nature,
I hoped this could never end –  
I felt secure in friendship and
apparent acceptance by 
my friend’s parents. Of course,
things did change.

But..........I did not.
Not for a long, long time.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 9/16/2018 12:55:00 PM
love this deep nostalgic write
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Date: 9/1/2018 11:12:00 PM
I enjoyed this well written narrative, Leo! It brought back a childhood memory of my Dad getting me a used bike for my birthday, because we couldn’t afford a new one. He told me he would repaint it whatever color I wanted, and I chose sky blue, my favorite color at the time. I was so proud of that bike. I miss those days when most play was done outdoors with kids actually using their imaginations.
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Date: 9/1/2018 3:25:00 PM
A well written journey through childhood. Very nice :)
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Date: 8/23/2018 9:39:00 PM
I'm not a person who looks back on his childhood or the way things were, but I can identify many aspects of your poem, Leo. Many thanks for stopping by to read my work. Best to you always. / M
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Date: 6/28/2018 9:41:00 PM
A beautiful story. That ending really got to me. Sad... when things that are vital to happiness change. Great poem start to finish. I enjoyed the trip into a carefree childhood. Thanks for your visit to my poem.
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Date: 5/19/2018 9:50:00 AM
Your narrative and recollection of childhood experiences are excellent, Leo. My childhood was similar to yours, except that mine was centred mostly around my grandfather's farm and windmill. Regards // paul
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