Childhood Memories

It is hard for me to remember;
Part the sea of hazy vague glimpses
Which comprises my childhood memories.

An adolescence spent at war,
With the nucleus of my life,
Leaves little room for remembering
Or understanding what it was like before –
Before something else became my normal.

Instead I am left only with fragments,
Small throw-away details,
Seemingly without value,
Like opening fruit shoots with my teeth,
Falling over in a car park,
Eating rice cakes on a family walk –
Small moments,
So tiny, they may seem insignificant
When you are not the owner of this brain.

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WILD IMAGININGS…

Routes are packed
With the absence of people
And abandoned woodland dens,
Still holding those insistent conversations,
The budding minds, pulled at the roots
Of bluebells and stared
Straight into the world’s eye
Which glowed down at them
Through gaps in the leaves.