(Friday Fiction on Xanga posts.)
The green fields of home, where the color green
matched the early leaves of spring in this town-
this feeling of being away for so long, missing the
moments of laughter with friends and siblings–
Give me back my childhood, without a care, where
my grandmother told stories of kings and queens
and of lands of fairies and butterflies; her stories
longer than our nights, and her smiles caresses on our souls—
I miss that too!
I want those rain soaked streets, with puddles
where we jumped up and down and splashed water
all over us, laughter gurgling from the depth of our bellies
our hair flying in the wind, and the silvery chimes of anklets–
I long for this!
Paper boats in the puddles, some washed-up and limp
our hands pushing them along, giggling at the
shreds of paper; innocence and simplicity, washing ashore
wonder in our eyes, longing to repeat the same game
I remember fondly, and I miss that!
I celebrate my life, and a mind that can still ruminate,
thoughts that can be converted to speech–
Now, seven decades later, I miss my youth, and play
these same mindless games with my grandchildren,
So they, hopefully will remember!
Zakiah Sayeed Ali
November 19th 2015