Sycamore Lane Notebook

snippets of childhood memories, fragments of bittersweet suburban recollections scrapbooked...

Family of rabbits, sheltered by a cardboard roof.

Once, around the mulberry bushes of ice-cream truck weekends.

Sweet Neapolitan of asphalt, concrete, grass.

Seldom was the hydrangea bush trimmed or hedges squarely clipped.

My neighbor’s falsetto, sometimes she would sing.

Often times a bird or two will trill along, or perhaps they never hear.

Teenagers in the pool, teenagers on the roof.

Did they see me as a child? �" maybe they did not see at all.

Humming of wasps in my swing set; pulsing breath.

Out past the lawns, fireflies that dot the night like stars.

Mud in the sandbox, sand in the pot.

We never tied the rope swing to our sycamore tree.

Its moth and butterfly seedlings spiral in the air before they fall.

First flight, bloodied knees.

Prayers of the backyard bible group, Psalm 23.

The Lord is my shepherd, the grass of my lawn freshly mowed.

The dog escapes his fence and chases the rabbits away.

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

' My neighbor’s falsetto, sometimes she would sing.
Often times a bird or two will trill along, or perhaps they never hear. '

Ohhhh my, this is wonderful! If only everyone had such clear memories of wonderful days - even the 'bloodied knees'. You touch so many scenes in quite a few words yet with really amazing and strong colours

'Humming of wasps in my swing set; pulsing breath.
Out past the lawns, fireflies that dot the night like stars.'

[Athina]

wow good work! a good story in a poem

[Paddy]

Glad to see you are still absolutely amazing at writing :D not that i was surprised or anything. good luck with your future pieces as I am barely on here anymore : /

[spiritwind]

I like how your author's voice returned to its youth without losing its naturity. Your images came and went like fleeting memories flitting through your mind. Enjoyed... really sink into that word's meaning.... I enjoyed reading your poem and going where you whispered. Well done, Annie H.

[Kenneth Compton]

this piece is nostalgia incarnate, making me long for a time, I never even knew! Good work!

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the many memories in the poem. Funny how some things we do hold on to. Thank you for the excellent poem.
Coyote