Image: Jean-Daniel Beley
Summer arrived shirts were off.
The boy loved the long days
Endless games in backyards
Exploring the surrounds
Stepping into places forbidden.
From morning till evening
He met with mates
Picked sides, made plans
Some days riding out of town
Some days huddled around someone’s bright idea.
They played along the old train line
Hid from the farmer in the recesses of the bridge
Fished the creek, marvelled at the tiny mud gudgettes.
It was all so carefree
Innocence and no responsibility.
Injury was part of the game
They nursed each other through the pain of falling
Washed each other’s wounds
Band-Aids a plenty, fixed everything.
In time summer meant, shirts on
Lazy Lawler had skin cancers
Marky went crazy, they said from playing with ropes,
Sally had skin rashes that must have been the creek.
The boy was told of dangers
He learned about responsibility.
Age brought with it doubts
Kids moved away
There were fewer games
Neighbours found jobs
Money meant cars
Independence, girls and trouble.
When Petey took his life, everything changed
Gone was his childhood
Anger surfaced as never before
Fingers were pointed
The boy withdrew into his world
Doors were shut
Kids grew silent
As they wondered….
They met a last time
“Growing up is no fun,” said one
They nodded in agreement
The boy went home,
Shut the door to his room
It was better that way.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/06/13/photo-challenge-169/
Morpethroad 
That’s sad 😦 but ultimately probably true for a lot of folks. Things do not get simpler as you get older.
No we get all inhibited about most things I think. Thanks Juls for stopping by.
Growing up sucks.
I sometimes think about that Twilight Zone episode where the elderly folk turn into kids again while playing Kick the Can. Your poem has a similar feel to it.
Well growing up is hard I know but getting old truly sucks Cara….thanks so much for stopping by.
When we lose innocence, we lose the magical.
Though some can hold on to the pixie dust longer than others. Some find it later . . .
That is true or some find it years after forgetting where they left it…
Nice to find it again . . .
Great story – truthful and honest – and I like how you set this up and it came around, the cycles and patterns ….
Thanks Pat, as kids we are indestructible, as we age we become so much more brittle.
true – and the mystery is to re-learn how to be supple
Well old age interferes with supple I’m sad to say
yes, and no – perhaps physically, but if one can keep the mind bent in that direction?
Well that’s a good point. Our minds need to be supple otherwise we become cranky old sticks stuck in mud.
LOL@cranky old sticks 😀
well, there are moments when it’s okay to allow for the cranky, but I really think it’s all about the mind – and then if possible, the body will follow, not necessarily back to “ease” – but it’s about the mind …. although deciding to play in mud puddles can be good too, especially when older, – problem of not being able to get up again, aside – as long as you don’t care about a few raised eyebrows 😉
Damn, this is sad! And true. But I would still go crawdad catching again if given the chance. 🙂
Yes exactly, we never considered the risks did we?
Nope…we were invincible. 🙂
As I said our greatest fear was the farmer yelling at us. Nothing in nature was an issue even when we knew there were snakes but never saw one.
Same here…except my parents were the farmers. 🙂
Lol