When I Was Eight And Three Quarters Poem by Richard D Remler

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When I was eight and three quarters,
It seems to me
Things were much larger
Than they now seem to be.
So much larger than all
Of the things I now see.
When I was eight and three quarters,
I was a much different me.

When I was eight and three quarters,
I seem to recall
That most of the trees
Were a thousand feet tall.
And I made it my goal
To climb one and all.
When I was eight and three quarters,
What a world I saw.

Those hidden places of wonder
Seemed to be waiting for me,
Just under the bow
Of that Daffodil Tree,
Where the flutterbees danced
In their blue promenade,
And the Popsicle Bugs
Rested in the soft shade.

When I was eight and three quarters,
The stars were so bright,
That they shined and the shimmered
Far into the night,
Never once dimming
Or fading away,
Like firefly candles
Left outside to play.

Those Carousel lights
Down in FarFarField Park
Would fire their embers
At just after dark.
And their music would swim
Through the warm July air,
Soft as the hush of
An evening prayer.

Oh, how this wonderful
World seemed new.
The grass so much greener,
The sky such a blue
She melted the twilight
Like soft winter snow,
As warm as a kiss to the
World below.

Were things ever so hurried?
Had we any more time?
I think a telephone call
Cost only a dime.
Twenty-eight cents
Bought a gallon of gas.
And our drinking cups
Were not made of plastic,
But glass.

We used a push mower
To trim the whole lawn.
And we flicked a wall switch
Just to turn a light on.
There were no flat-screen tvs,
And not one internet.
And we hadn't conceived
What an Ipod was yet.

I recall how that thunderstorm
Tore up the town,
And brought the big Oak tree
In Mason's yard down.
The boom of the thunder,
The flashes of light
Lit up my Valley
Long into the night.

Sprinkling stardust
Across a blue sea,
And the burnt morning sky
Gently singing to me,
Painting the mountains
With the colors of fall,
And we thought ourselves rich
To have witnessed it all.

When I was eight
And three quarters,
There were moments
Like these,
Sneaking in after dark
All cut up at the knees,
And hiding from Dad
As he jingled his keys,
As the world flew by
Like the quick on a breeze.

These are my moments,
All carved into stone.
A storehouse of memories
That I call my own.
A personal treasure
That no other can see.
For these memories
Belong only to me.



Copyright © MMXII Richard D. Remler