Cowboys and Indians
dress-up shoot ‘em up
what happened to those days of
make believe?
Lil boys playin’ ball
Kicking the can
In the street yard
Dodge ball or stickball
It’s one thing or another
Runnin’ bases made from mamma’s
Old sofa pillows
Baseballs sewn over and over
Till they are unrecognizable
Still we played—
Our mom’s called us
With strained voices
Echoing in the alleys
Of crowded streets
We played on
Like there was no tomorrow
We begged for more
Until the streetlights
Went on
Forget supper
Who would have guessed?
Video games could replace
Freedom of sunshine
Fresh air—friendship
And fun…
What have they created?
Obesity, Couch potatoes,
Oblivious to life—to death
Rip out the cords of animosity
of ignorance, of idleness
bring back the days
of youthfulness
and dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh My. Number 40's subject matter is too much for me to take! Kick the can memories with friends. Well, i greedily kept my childhood friends. I refused to let em go. The best thing i have ever done! thank u Catherine, i saved several of your pieces in my ATF's (all time faves)