Childhood

I knew the secret.

I knew it like I knew the

smell of the earth after rain, the

softness of grass underneath bare feet, and the 

sound of my mother's voice calling me home.

I knew it the way I knew the

sun, and the moon, and all 

beautiful things.

Unspoken.

It was there, in between the familiar and

the unfamiliar.

I knew the secret, and I 

wore it in my hair like a flower, but,

flowers wilt and turn to ash, and

what was once known is soon

forgotten.

I do not know the secret anymore.

All that is left of it is a memory,

the smell of the earth after rain, the

softness of grass underneath bare feet, and the

echoed sound of my mother's voice, still

calling me home.

Reviews

[...]

This kind of magical memory on childhood . Each line is getting us deep into your story of to be child. Something what we maybe forget but what is still part of us. Thank you very much for remind me what i once was.

[Indra's Child]

I am just now returning to a path of balance and remembering...
I love your work here- Soft, yet powerful like a river.
Most people don't want to remember after a while, something to do with existential dread.... lol

[Relic]

~ I like this very much. There seems to be a vail we pass through as we age. Those things that were once wonderous and new fade and get lost. Your last lines echo not only your mom's voice but a great repetition of the first thoughts. ~

Great job on this.