Monday, April 14, 2014

Poem by Nick Weinstein


Growing up you used your hands
Taking roll call every time
You needed to count between one and ten

But that never mattered

When you were young you still needed a song
Never were quite sure what came next, was it J or K?
Twenty-six letters put to a rhyme just so you could spell

But that never mattered

Whatever happened to those days?
Did they slip away in backdraft of time’s momentum?
Fall away from our calendars like a dying leaf?

Or are they simply hiding?
Just waiting to be rediscovered, our youthful invigoration?
Lying around our subconscious, a buried treasure trove of wonder?

Our twenty-four hour workday fills itself
Labor after labor after labor
Even Hercules would be put to shame,
He only had thirteen.

What changed us?
Derailed our hopes and dreams?
We used to have literary merit,
So much more than just a story
Now we trudge on desperately,
 Searching for a missing theme
That we will never find.

Imagination flew with freedom
We thought in sound and fury
The Shakespeare of our own minds
An everlasting waterfall of adventures to be had

Take back those “childish” days
Pay back the late fees and renew your sense of wonderment
Embrace what some may call a crisis
Because what everyone else thought?
Well, that never mattered.

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