Time Machine

January 22, 2011 better days...

Rain pours like a sleepy kid
on this unhurried Wednesday afternoon.
and like a time machine,
the rain brings me back to where my heart is,
where there are faces I've known
even before i learned to know mine,
where there is an open door
that leads me to a lullaby,
to a memory of innocence, of dependence,
a memory of a long dining table, of a toy gun,
of striped socks, of chasing sparrows,
a memory of hide and seek, of freedom,
where there is a mango tree longing for
that little girl's company,
to nap on its arms again,
where kites soar in the orange sky
as the wind comes and the sun cools down.
this place is a sweet memory
that tugs at my heart
and pulls me back every time I'm faraway.
it reminds me of who i am,
what i used to be.
this place turns me into a small girl
who wants nothing else but to go home
and play paper boats in the mud puddle,
while her mama makes pancakes
on a rainy morning.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Good to have places to go to in our memories. We appreciate the fun and toys of youth when we get too old to have time for fun and games. I like the places you took me in the poem. I like the ending to the excellent poem.
Coyote

[..]

who wants nothing else but to go home
and play paper boats in the mud puddle,
while her mama makes pancakes
on a rainy morning.

I really love this part, such a wonderful imagery here.
Awesome writing too.