Childhood

I long for

my childhood.

I long for the

sound of joyful laughter

and playful screams that were stilled by crashing waves.

I long for my wild imagination

and creativity

that lead to the building of homes

for my stuffed friends.

I long for

tea parties with my sister

and water wars with my father.

I long for

the fearful wonder that I felt

every time that thunder roared

and lightning flashed

and my mother’s comforting voice,

her soothing touch as she tucked me in.

I long for the days of exploring and climbing trees

and when scraped knees and splinters

were my only pains.

I long for the days of wishing to be older

and when growing up was a very attractive alternative

to being to young, to short, to little.

I long for

my childhood.