Childhood

I see the tarnished sweet strawberries
Longing to zone my hunger
Lightly pacing; a slight voice pleads
A complaint absent-mindedly heard
Ground up all the damage and state
A story of critically fallen
Whispers.  Twist a ball in my stomach
Carefully tainting my downfall
Heavily weighted the feathers
of my heart.  Plain haste about the yard
Children run through the rows in the season
Clumsy laughter slips through the wind
They find shelter from the sun under
a grandfather tree on top of the hill.
The branches, they climb for adventures.

But this is the seed of my childhood
Bedded in the friendly memory.
It hurts to think I had to grow up
The statement of my past is a twister-
Mixing all the weaknesses and strengths,
With joys and pains that will follow me down.