The Boy on the Hill

I can see him there now, shading

The high beating sun with his palm.

Ignorant of times diligence

He’d stare down for hours on his world,

The burnished  little street below

Was all that he needed to know.

But unaware of the transience of bliss

He never felt the night closing in.

Reviews

[Roland Petrov]

The night closing in is adulthood? This poem, like so many of yours, is so pleasing, whether I understand it all or not.

[Beano]

Definitely adulthood, total understanding here dear, Roland! :)

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

this is truly beautiful
what inspired you to write this I would like to know the background a bit more out of curiosity if you like

[Beano]

Hi Julie, thanks for the kind comment! I wanted to try write a short idealised poem about my childhood. I tried writing it in 8 syllable lines to stop me rambling, but that went out the window in the last two lines. Best, Jamie.

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Thanks well I loved it
You have talent

[Beccy]

The innocence of childhood; so very brief, but so very vital. Lose that, and we lose the future.

A truly wonderful poem.

Beccy.

[Beano]

Thank you as ever Beccy, and that is the very excuse I often use for my rampant immaturity! :)
read moreThank you as ever Beccy, and that is the very excuse I often use for my rampant immaturity! :)

Jamie X