Or rather, children as I see them.
Some retrospective, self analyzing poetry.
Some recollections, an attempt to make them artful.
Yeah, something written for my 10 year old self. A little silly, a little cute.
More nostalgia today.
Even more personal this one, filled with old memories.
All the feelings, all the fondness, all the happy thoughts that emerge from slumber in my head when the first notes of a Christmas songs begins to play in November, the sense of warm and fuzzies that come over me as the pretty lights come up on the balconies, the tree in the town square glowing red and cozy in the grey starless dark, all of that comes from one brief period in my childhood. I can even pinpoint them within a few years.