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Cape Cod, United States
__I see with young eyes, an old mirror. Here, I hope to offer... as I see.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Departure #7

From my scribble book, _m

Then, and now.

Hours were longer, and in
Wishing for the day,
A child slept through
Bleaker nights,
Awakening to
Bluer skies, where
Birds curled higher
Above greener trees,
Fields were broader,
Hills taller,
Brooks deeper, and
Cleaner winds blew
Through darker forests;
Tomorrows were the
Next steps along
Secret paths that
Led to unknown
Places where
Thickets of fatter
Raspberries waited,
And the
Sun rained down
To pull the earth
Through greening
Stem... into brighter

A child saw these things
Then... and now,
In the sculpture of memory.


Anonymous said...

Yes, I have noticed that the past gets rosier as I age. You put it in words much better than I could, though.

Janice Thomson said...

You are that child Magyar - you have not lost the wonderment nor the ability to 'see' that all are borne with but few can retain before becoming tainted by life's experiences...
I so enjoy your 'departures'. :)

Magyar said...

__Ah yes, friends, "the past gets rosier as I (we) age." To use your good words, Sandy.
__Jan, "I see with young eyes, an old mirror." We are "tainted by life's experiences... ."
__When we see as a child, we can look beyond life's infections... if only for an instant.
__Thank you Sandy an Jan!

Judie said...

A beautiful bit of writing. Thank you for sharing it with us.The part of my past you wrote about does get "rosier" as we age. Too bad the rest does not.

moondustwriter said...

ahhhh the secret paths of the memory
what a delightful reflection into childhood

John McDonald said...

nice one M

Frank... said...

Very nostalgic poem, Magyar

Lorraine said...

you show just how beautiful, lovely and free we could have kept it for our children, so sad so full of long-ago beauty

TALON said...

I'm convinced that days were five times longer when I was a child - summer seemed to last a year at least. Yes, memories have a glow that only grows brighter through time.

I love this, D. It's both tender and bittersweet...

Ashi said...

I love your drifting in memories, at a distance you can't trust memories, but we get great comfort in them as we remember them :)

Magyar said...

Judie... thanks! it all seems so clear, we -saw- then, at another level!

Moondustwriter... I do so thank you
for your visits, and understanding remarks; we all understand. You are always welcome

John... thank you, we 'stone handlers' understand. I spent
two summers as a mason's helper, but for the moss... the walls look today as they did in 1959/60!

Frank... that muse of memory, thanks! The nostalgia of thought.

LL... We compare what was and what is: -Is, is; is isn't was; was, was is-. Smiles!

K... 'tender and bittersweet,' my thoughts too, as I watch my grand-
children stumbling forward into a world that WE, have yet to understand!

Jens... the last three lines were added well after this initial scribble, to say that yes, we all "sculpt" our memories into
a little more... than what was.

__I do so thank you all, and I'm quite happy that you enjoy my scribbles, and that some of what I write, may actually matter. Always! _m

BB said...

Loved it my friend !

Ralf Bröker said...

This sculpture won't be finished a whole life long. But then it is beautyful - and hopefully shared and read (or seen, hearable ...). Fine poem, _m.

Best wishes

Magyar said...

BB... I thank you! Too... we follow what we feel... as did Howard Roark; I recommend checking Rands books, and balancing them to modern society.

Ralf... thanks! I'm so glad you like this write, and we may embellish, as we sculpt our memories!

Timoteo said...

I can only use one word for this: EXQUISITE !

Tikkis said...

memories passing by, me, anyway, (also)

Gerry Snape said...

the past is another country they say, and this describes it perfectly. Would I might still live there but only from time to time as I would still be eager to grow up!

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