De-tach-ed.
Det-ach-ed.
Childhood happened in
this city &
on these lawns.
This park &
thislake &
this bakery.
Childhood happened in
taxi cabs &
science museums.
Art shops &
book stores.
The library.
Childhood happened in
the dry heat.
100 degrees in the
summer. Not a touch of
humidity. Childhood happened in
the dry snow.
Snow that's more
air than water.
I've become detached from this childhood. This city/suburbia upbringing. Saks 5th Ave. & Neiman Marcus. I've grown to hate almost everything about where my childhood happened. Everything but the mountains.
Childhood happened
on the trails &
in Aspen trees.
Behind wooden cabins &
in front of wood stoves.
Monarch butterflies &
humming birds &
the occasional brown bear.
Little hippie tea/sandwich/that is not burning sage shops &
the best cup of coffee you've ever had.
Childhood happened
in the car rides &
the chairlift rides &
every last drop of water.
Lakes & rivers that are too cold to swim in but have the best fishing on this side of the Mississippi.
Childhood happened
with knowing how to fish & hike & ride a horse never letting anyone know that.
- Qwerty's blog
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Qwerty I really like
Qwerty
I really like this.
Childhood happened in
taxi cabs &
science museums.
Art shops &
book stores.
The library.
It's very...real, I guess, is the word I am looking for.
I was a little thrown off that "Snow that's more/air than water" was a separate sentence on a separate line. It threw off the flow for me, a little.
I also thought the ending was a little sudden, but I'm kind of particular about that so don't take that too seriously.
It's really beautiful as is.
-icuc
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Don't threaten me with love, babe, let's just go walking in the rain.
-Billie Holiday