The Eyes of a Child

Lying here in light slumber
Remembering things when I was a child
The distinct squawking from the lake
As the birds called to their mate
The summer storms with they’re violent spasms of thunder
How we would slip away
Give Mr. Jennings a hotfoot with twigs and hay
Mom would testify to dad that we where good all day
The hemorrhaging flow of words from cousin Tim
Listening to the men’s speculation of who would win the big game
How a win was long overdue
Sitting on the front porch
As we would sing and swing
All of the childhood games
Running and jumping into the hay
The forts we’d build deep in the woods
And after the dissolution of each day
At night gathering around the table
The board games we would play
We’d crave grandma’s cooking each Sunday
And then late at night chasing lighting bugs
Capture them with a glass jar
When we laid down each night
Mom would give us all a kiss
As we were lying there we would hear
Her voice soft and sweet
It was like music was we drifted off to sleep

  
by Tears of Roses