A Handful of Words: An Anthology of Original Poetry

Eyes of A Child

I remember my three-year-old self stealthily sneaking downstairs before the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, feverishly unwrapping each and every one of my presents.

I remember my grandfather taking me on walks, attempting to teach me how to recognize various types of trees by the shapes and colors of their leaves.

I remember secretly playing in the neighbor’s yard and unknowingly destroying their juniper bush in the process.

I remember my kid sister and I using the dirt-encrusted garden hose to drench our trampoline in order to cool us down in the summer.

I remember the time I was reprimanded by an elderly man for climbing my favorite cherry tree near the neighborhood swimming pool.

I remember sitting on the front porch in the blistering Georgia heat wave, enjoying a homemade popsicle.

I remember riding bicycles for hours on end with the neighborhood kids, trying to pop wheelies.

I remember being sprawled out on the driveway, listening to Elvis explode out of a boom box.

I remember trekking through my neighbor’s lawn to get to my best friend’s house, where we played video games until the sun went down.