As dark falls,
running footsteps
up the street
draw close.
For a moment
it’s thirty years ago
and my son Steve,
aged 11, runs
up the street to home —
in a different suburb
in a different State.
Then the illusion
passes, and it’s night.
NaPoWriMo Day 28
Submitted 11 Dec. 2011 for the Arrivals and Departures prompt at 'imaginary garden with real toads'
How our mind can take us back to those moments...Like the weaving of the present and past reflections ~
ReplyDeleteYeah, there are times, when I am not really thinking about it, when I half expect my son to walk into the room and be ten years old. Then in the next moment, of course, I laugh at myself, but it's a complex emotion I feel at those times.
ReplyDeleteThank you for identifying!
ReplyDeleteReminiscent of the past...I do love remembering those cherished moments and for split seconds being taken back to them. Love how you wrote to put us in that moment!
ReplyDeleteIt is hard to accept that not only has one's own childhood passed, but that of one's children too. No matter their age though, I hope their journeys always involve some running towards us.
ReplyDeleteThe hint of sadness in this poem is because, although he was a lovely boy, if the man came running towards me now I'd be running fast in the opposite direction! They don't always turn out as we would hope.
ReplyDelete