Good Ol' Days

The doorbell rang; she rushed to open the door,

‘twas a windy day, and the rain decided to pour.

Behind the door, soaked in water stood,

Now-mature Edmond, from the neighbourhood.

Serious in expression, in all his sanity, he said:

“Hello Mrs. Wilson! Where is my friend, Ted?”

“Oh hon, I am sorry! He just left for his job,

Don’t you fret, he’ll return soon.” She said clutching the door knob.

He knew; that soon can’t come soon enough,

So he held out a bag, filled with some stuff.

“Mrs. Wilson, I just wanted to return this to Ted.” said he,

“It has his Dino’s lost tail and his favourite rubber ducky.

From the ball that he left at my house ages ago,

To the photos where we were seen taking an oath that we’ll never grow.”

“Thank you Mrs. Wilson” he continued, “for everything you did,

Never I heard you grumble when I visited your house as a kid.

Well, now it’s time to say goodbye.” he said struggling through tears,

And did not wait for any reply to fall into his ears.

 

He ran down the street, it was all wet and dark,

And by good fortune, his eyes fell upon the park.

Ah, the park, the self same park! Nostalgia the sight brought him,

The child in him roused yet once again and brightness he saw in the dim.

He entered the park and, before anyone, raced to snatch the swing,

He succeeded, for the very first time, but alas! Any joy did this bring?

On the swing he sat, the wind swaying him gently,

Remembering how Ted, in that very park, extended a hand friendly.

Oh, how he wished they could play on the see-saw for one last time,

Or climb the jungle gym and return home covered in grime.

Oh, how he wished they could play hide and seek,

Or little bits of food from their homes they could sneak.

Oh, how he missed those days when he did nothing but play,

He shed a tear and could feel the rain slowly clear away.

I have to go- he reminded himself getting to his feet,

Took one last look at the park and made his way to the street.

 

Walking down the street, lost in his thoughts,

He passed the big bully Joe’s house about whom he completely forgot.

He remembered the time when Joe pulled down his pants,

And how he donated his lunch to the ants.

During this time of hardship, who gave him bread?

Who else could it be but his very best friend, Ted.

In no time he reached his house, where the moving van stood,

Surveyed his sweet home whither he spent his good days of childhood.

His house seemed empty, as void as his heart,

Never had he thought from this place he’d have to part.

It’s all over, those days are lost and gone forever- he thought,

But I’ve packed my trunk of memories, hither that I sought.

A smile, finally, on his face, he saw the bright sun above,

His parents asked him to hurry into the car, the parents whom he loved.

 

Without another word he started walking towards the car,

When all of a sudden, someone called out his name from afar.

With the speed of lightning, he turned around,

And the sight made his knees fall to the ground.

Tears rolled down his cheek, his hands felt dead,

An angel came running towards him, an angel named Ted.

Ted stopped right in front of him, his eyes were full of tears,

Moments flashed past them, that they spent together in these years.

Hugging each other tightly, with happiness their hearts did overflow,

Neither spoke cause they were astounded by the amazing sight of the rainbow…

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I have said everything I wanted to through this poem. I got the inspiration for this poem from my real life, somehow, and also from quite a few songs. I just want to say that friendship is underrated these days. You seldom find true friends in this mean world. If you do have, feel lucky about it. Childhood, I think, is the best part of a person's life. Instead of fussing over the fact that childhood is over, be happy that it happened, and keep cherishing the memories that you made during that period of time. I hope you like this poem. Don't forget to review.

Reviews

[flamingdarknezz]

For someone of your age, this is very deep and complex. And the world should see this work of yours.

Though there was some minor error that became confusing for a while.
(The second to the last stanza, second line I think.)

Nonetheless, it was brilliant.

[Zoya]

First of all, thanks a lot for reading! And I guess that's the way I want that line to be, so probably not an error. But thanks for pointing that out :) Thanks once again for your kind words!

[Ted Kniffen]

Well, Zoe, this is a very good story. There are bits that could be shortened for structure to enhance the rhyme, but over all, a very good job.
Of course I may have a vested interest.
Ted

[Zoya]

Haha, probably. Thank you so much for your review!

[60s]

I admire the writers that can use poetry as a form of storytelling. you're amazing and very talented thank you for blessing me with this!

[Zoya]

Aw thank you so much :) I really appreciate your review.

[Manu]

The essence of true friendship is very well captured in this one. Very nicely written. :-)

[Zoya]

Thank you so much for your kind review Gothic :)

[Zoya]

Gorthi* I am so sorry

[Jim]

While I do think SOME of the rhymes are a little awkwardly written, this is still an amazing poem. And for a girl your age, it's truly incredible. I'm only a year older thank you and can barely write good anything. You have so much talent and potential. Keep up the good work :)

[Zoya]

Thank you so much Jim! It means a lot :)

[andrew mitchell]

Keep writing I agree with Jay some forced rhymes especially in the second stanza, but I'm no expert either.

[Zoya]

Yeah...Thanks for your time!

[JayG]

You're forcing, forcing, forcing the lines to the needs of the rhyme.

But the purpose of rhyming poetry isn't to rhyme. The rhyme just provides a cadence, and should never be obvious, Like the rain "deciding to pour," because you needed a rhyme for "door," or the woman deciding ton smirk for no reason apparent to the reader, other then you needing a rhyme for "work."

In general, it's better to not rhyme at all, than to have the rhyme overpower the thought.

If you are going to write structured poetry there's a lot more that goes with it that's not optional, like prosody, which complements the rhyming and makes the words flow smoothly.

I'd suggest you take a look at the excerpt, on Amazon, for Stephen Fry's, The Ode Less Traveled. It's a good introduction to the nuts and bolts of both language and poetry. It's something both poets and prose writers should read.

[Zoya]

Thank you so much for reviewing, sir. I will certainly take a look at the suggested excerpt!

[Giulia King]

This got me hooked :) It created a vivid image. Amazing job

[Zoya]

Thank you so much for the review Gullia :)

[Omikron]

Wow I love this poem! It's like you caught the very essence of boyhood and the meaning of friendship, especially when growing up.

This poem is underrated.

Loved it, thanks for sharing

// O

[Zoya]

Oh thanks a lot for your kind review! I really appreciate it :)

[Valentine]

I agree with Tony, it needs more, but you have some lovely thoughts and lines in this. I could see a part of my own childhood when reading this. Valentine

[Zoya]

Thanks for the review :)

[Tony Jordan]

Imagine if he had called to Teds and his mom said Ted was dead - and had been for a long time then when he was standing by the removal van Ted ran to him and was an actual angel - i.e. not alive.
That was the only thing that I felt could have improved this because as it stands it is a lovely testament to moving on and embracing change but it could have been so much more Zoe.
Thank you for the RR.
Keep writing.
:)

[Zoya]

Yeah I understand what you're saying...I guess I was too eager to post this that I did not give attention to those little details(which I should have done). Thanks for your time, anyway!