Stories of my youth, the memories that keep me alive. Which souvenirs from childhood do you relive most within your self-perception? Long, lone walks with my dog have been the roots of my being. School morning hair-dos have been the roots of my being. Loving and being loved have rooted my being. 'I Loved You, My Youth', stories of my childhood- the roots of my being.
I only have eyes for you
For the dazzling river streams, for playing cards with my friends, for fighting hugs with my cousins on Thanksgiving.
Collecting rusted magnets and lost photographs, reading birthday cards and scratching days off my calendar.
For field days at school and climbing trees, folk stories and campfire lunches.
Crying to movies and watching the sky as the blues caramelize, loving Earth and catching ladybugs.
I will forever hope for days of paper cutouts, Sunday school and talking to my dad over brunch.
For getting a new doll and report cards on your refrigerator.
New shoes and an increased number of hangers in your closet, the maze loses you.
I will forever cherish the exhilaration that were the days my mom painted my nails.
I loved you, my youth.
The innocent girl who kissed and laughed
For she grew and learned more about her life than she sought to know, I thank her.
Young in mind and in spirit, young in her music sense and in her pick of a night’s warm cup of whole milk.
Young as she ran only quarter miles before she left for a canyon of spring’s mellowed water.
Young, she lifted blankets twice her weight onto the couch, one for her and one for grandma.
Young and hopeful that people would be nice.
Young, she held her mom’s purse, perfused with glory, and yet handed a bag not yet to be hers.
I love you, my youth, for you have given me my greatness and my deepest loves, the hallmark for my sincerity.
Thanks for spending part of your day with me. See you next week. -Ana
Editor: Ana Lema
Writer: Ana Lema
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