I Spy a Time…


The stone children sit,

on the ground


looking at something

that has caught

their interest,

dirt-caked skin,

grass-stained clothes,

earth rubbed into

flesh and soul,

siblings bonding,

sharing, borrowing,

from one another’s


to create an adventurous land

of make believe,

adult- and stress-

and time-


timeless memories,

innocence of childhood,




in the garden

of youth.

I remember clearly

being that girl.

I remember those

being my children

as well.


Poem and image ©Laura Denise

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