Poetry Monday

{I cant help it-I rhyme LOL}

Used to Be
I was walking by the water, in a park one summer’s day.
And I came upon a circle of some children lost in play.
It seemed they were just sharing stories; curious, I stopped to hear.
And my eyes grew wide with wonder, when their voices reached my ears.

“When I used to be a grownup,” said a little girl of eight.
“I grew vegetables and children till I couldn’t stand up straight.”

“Well, me? I was a soldier.” Said a boy, no more than four.
“And I had to leave my mommy, just to fight in some old war.”

“I lived in a castle.” They all rolled their eyes. “It’s true!”
The young child of seven huffed and pointed, saying, “What were you?”

“I was no one special.” This one’s voice was low and soft.
“I just rode a train my whole life, helping people on and off.”

“Do you remember dying?” “I remember being born.”
Then their talk was interrupted by a swiftly honking horn.

They all grabbed each other by the hand and ran off to their ride.
But I sat down right there in the grass, feeling changed, somehow, inside.
What was it that I’d witnessed? Dreams the media had jaded?
Just the product of creative minds? Or memories not faded?

The one thing no one can argue…there is magic when we’re young.
There is something shines from children, and we miss it when it’s gone.
As if they’ve not yet shaken off the stardust from their trip.
Oh if we could hold the magic, never loose our stubborn grip.

That night I lay down on my bed, and closed my eyes to see
If somewhere within the quiet, hid those things I used to be.

©R.G. Alexander