Childhood Summer

A poem about the essence of childhood and the fleeting beauty of summer.

Every summer, 
childhood blooms again;
opening like petals in the sun,
the air thick with laughter
and the smell of grass wet with morning dew.
Days are long and endless, 
sweet with the rush of freedom,
where time oozes as viscous as honey,
and each moment counts for something.

In the garden, 
we construct monuments of imagination,
our crown the sun, 
our ceiling the sky.
Friends gather, and like clouds,  
drift from one adventure to the other,
each chuckle a string in a chorus of laughter,
every bloody knee a glorious scar.

And then at dusk come the fireflies,
tiny lantern eyes dancing in the evening light,
illuminating our shared secrets,
tales woven under the starry sky.
We're sitting in circles, cross-legged,
hearts open,  
every word a fiber of a spun dream;
laughter that echoes like an old tune—
the kind that sticks around 
long after the final note has dissolved.

In these instances, 
the world is limitless,
each shadow beckoning us
to leap into the unknown,  
plunge into the heart of fantasy,
where concerns dissolve like sugar in warm tea,
and fears are only faint rustlings on the wind.

As the sun sets,  
our shadows are painted
against a canvas of fire;
a tribute to the season and 
a reminder that 
youth is passing, 
yet eternal in its essence.

And when autumn arrives,  
with clear air and golden leaves,
we'll carry these memories,  
the laughter, 
warmth,  
unfiltered joy,  
a secret garden in our hearts,
that’ll flower again next summer,
when childhood returns once more,
inviting us to 
dance,  
dream,  
live.

Author's Note

My summer hasn't been great, with more tears than smiles. Finding this poem, which I wrote a few summers back, really brightened my day. It brought back memories of simpler, joyful times. Though I understand life goes in cycles, I sometimes need a gentle reminder. This poem gave me just that.

Upcoming…

• A poem about change:

  It Begins With Us, 30 August 2025

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