General Poetry posted February 9, 2019

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Good old days for us kids. Future was closed book.

The Future

by Gail Denham

The Future

Mostly I remember the quiet.
We moved a lot, being renters.
Each place we made our own, fast,
and took to the streets, safe then.

Adventure coaxed me outside.
Rode my big brother's old no-speed
bike everywhere in summer, heat
making crazy little wavy lines rise
from newly tarred streets.

"And don't play in the new tar,"
was Mom's admonition before
she left for work. It was squishy
between the toes, a bit hot,
and smelled like fun. Rolled
in the hand, it became bubble gum.
Some kids chewed it.

Norm had rheumatic fever in that house.
Mom hired a day sitter, but it was my job
to take him to Dr. Unger for blood draws.
Norm lay on the couch for a year, playing
with puzzles. We didn't have a TV.

Wish I'd known what a short time
he had in this life -- but I was a kid,
a not-teen yet girl who hated being
kid-sitter for younger brother and sister.

Many regrets linger from our young years.
We drove through our days in such a hurry,
careless of the memories we created. Norm
hurried to join the Navy, get married,
and hit a deer at 22. No one used
seat belts those days either.

Would I have been kinder, played
more quiet games with him if I'd known?
Probably not. The curtain between us
and the future is thick and necessary.

The Good Old Days writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
Write a poem about "the good old days" as you remember them. Any type, at least six lines
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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© Copyright 2019. Gail Denham All rights reserved.
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