The clouds cast no shadows rain descended
Water turning gutter into little streams
I dreamt of being a boy once again
Brown as a berry fearless of naught
Paddling in the river my shoes on the bank
Or flying my kite at top of the hill
Staying in bed when clearly was not ill
Those halcyon times are now long ended
Summers heat is but a nuisance these days
My passport runs out of date this years end
Who cares when most of world has shut its doors
Covid clusters continue to appear
Who can tell what rest of the year will bring
'Tis grapes of wrath, some will cry, some will sing
Image found at www.pixabay.com
This is beautifully poignant, Robin! Things are undoubtedly looking very bleak at the moment as cases continue to crop up. I sincerely hope that the situation improves soon.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful reminiscence followed by all-too-serious commentary on the present situation ... and in the writing excelling yourself.
ReplyDeleteLove this Yes it doesn't look good and that last line "'Tis grapes of wrath, some will cry, some will sing" perfect
ReplyDeleteI love the way you evoked the sound of rain in the line ‘Water turning gutter into little streams’, a staccato rain-beaten rhythm in the two-syllable words and the consonance of the ‘t’ sounds. I also love the idea of being ‘Brown as a berry fearless of naught’. And I really felt the shift in tone, the despair in the second stanza, in the thought that we can’t enjoy freedom and summer fun, that the heat is just a nuisance.
ReplyDeleteOh, those images, the berry versus the grape. Agree that this poignant and lovely.
ReplyDeleteGood use of the given words into a fine poem.Lovely memories . Who knows what the future holds? You survived WW2...you'll be fine...you're a trooper !
ReplyDeleteLife happened to the barefoot boy, brown as a berry, calamaties arriving and passing into history, and somehow the world goes on. We cling to hope.
ReplyDeleteAh what a worrying era we live in. But hang in there my friend
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
Muchđź’–love
It's so hard not to remember the good times, compare them with the current (not so great) times, and wonder what the future will bring. I shall hope for good things (and if good is too much to hope for, then I will wish--and work towards--not too bad).
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ReplyDeletenice write Old Egg. i felt like crying by poem's end. Very moving take on the pandemic.
ReplyDeleteRobin--the juxtaposition between the sweetness of youth and the reality of covid is striking here--really a beautiful write
ReplyDeleteThis piece goes right to my heart. It is one of my favorites of all the wonderful poems you've written.
ReplyDeleteThe world has indeed shut its doors.. can't wait to travel again!
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