Loss of Innocence

( a case of being misunderstood)

Not a glint of precious light

penetrated Nan's backyard.

Not a hint of sun on a spring day

to warm the caked earth.

Nor a blade of living grass,

let alone a flower head.

Only noise. The noise of trains

rattling past on arch tops,

brickwork blackened by smog

and the sight of jaundiced nets

hanging from windows

that had seen cleaner days.

But flowers were beautiful

and in the front garden next door,

an abundance of saffron crocus heads.

At age four,

not knowing they had been nurtured,

she picked them,

all of them.

A posy for her Nan.

All she can remember

is the punishment metered out,

the shouts of another,

and the neighbour crying

for her lost garden.

No one understood that the flowers

were intended as a gift

for someone much loved

who had none of her own.

Reviews

[Paul Bell]

I suppose nan got her flowers and was pleased.
Someone else missed out.
But the intention was good from the kid.
Plus, God works in mysterious ways.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Paul for calling.

Chris

[Kelly Scheppers]

I used to walk my neighborhood, in search of flowers to give my Nan. I knew just the places to go, too. I remember my guileless hands cupping their stems as I presented them to her. I never thought of it as a loss for the gardener, I only knew of the joy it gave my grandmother, and to me, to see her smile. Lovingly told, Chris ...and so heartfelt!

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Kelly. Your response about your own experience, much appreciated.

Chris

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

What a beautiful touching poem. We can all probably recall being punished for doing something accidentally, but it is so much more hurtful when the meaning was completely innocent.

I enjoyed this poem immensely, as it brought back memories, Thanks for sharing. :)

[Chris Shaw]

Tamara, thank you for your response. That you relate to these words means even more.

Chris

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

You're welcome, Chris.

I probably won't post anymore on this site. For some reason it's taking me such a long time to respond to each post. Ads just continue to load.

Anyway, I enjoyed your poetry.

[sette]

Being misunderstood also means wrong interpretations and always the outcome I negative for both parties in which the poem says it all

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you settee. How right you are. Thank you.

Chris

[Dr. YumnaKay]

This is a gripping tale and so well laid. We never know what goes on in the mind of a kid, do we? Always assuming them to be mischievous and not quite understanding their intentions...
Beautifully penned, Christine.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Dr Y. A classic case of being misunderstood. I remember it with clarity.

Chris

[john l smith]

a scarce commodity obviously treasured by all and an unfortunate loss of innocence which disappears far to quickly.
Actually, quite a sad little tale very nicely put, I can feel the contrasting emotions
Around here it is the deer but they only gift themselves

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you John for your thoughtful response. Much appreciated.

Chris

[Misterr Remeat]

Made me picture a black and white photo with a box of color in the middle

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you for visiting my page. I appreciate your visit.

Chris

[Lorry]

This is beautiful Chris, as well as making all the readers going "awwww"
You are certainly on a roll today, and at the risk of repeating myself, again...put the kids in charge, cos grown ups are weird.
Such a beautiful and innocent gesture, with thoughts and intentions of making a loved one smile, only to be punished for it. (grownups are weird.)
The poor neighbour too, but c'mon! Let the kids be kids as long as they can...because not only are grownups weird, being one lasts forever :)

[Chris Shaw]

Thanks Lorry. Funny how things stick in the mind isn't it? This one has stayed with me from childhood right through my adult life. Would I have handled it differently? Yes, I would have.

Chris

[Lorry]

If each generation does even just a little better than the last, well there is hope for us yet :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

God, this reminds me of Jersey City when we visited Grandma ...there were about three flowers on every block...garden state, but where she lived, gardens scarce.

[Chris Shaw]

I took you back all those years to your Grandma too? Not many flowers where I lived. Remember going to the seaside once when I was six and so admired the bindweed trumpets. They were weeds but I didn't know any different and I thought them so pretty. Thank you Jacob.

Chris