I chew those cries for thirst and hunger and swallowed those days of infant’s play,
and if I could, I would make a trade to refund those days without worries,
a childhood memory, a funny trail, my mind refrain, and the memory comes in vain.
When we played and jumped and teased and laughed, made fun and would run, we outran those days,
and when you sat, you would dream to be grown and smart and sometimes supernatural,
when cookies out of sand, and cars of wires were made, and hide and seek was popular,
when we could not wait for morning to come smiling; there was always a mission,
when Dad would shout, but privately wink, and Mom just look and say, ‘I told you’.
I miss those days, when I would cry and Mom would hold me in her arms, but now I’m called a full-grown man.
I see these kids in the streets and I wonder, I wonder where all has vanished. Cause now they play with phones and pit bull dogs.
My mind spins in the decade before and slides back like a snake into its same trail, and yet I go further, a decade deeper, confirming my roots and finding my passages, those were the landmarks of my bruises, the spots of my prayers, the rebirth of my faith, the Irelands where I anchored,
like a monk in the temple on meditation, I call on these days to reflect my deepest gain of greater understanding, I bow down my head to say praise to growth and humbleness,
for childhood is an angel to maturity as aging stands the test of time.