melissaahowells - And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

what I had was not much
a bike that clanked when I rode

but it had a blue straw basket
for traveling

my mother, my father, my brothers
noticed me only when there was a problem
I was a problem
my feelings were

so when I would disappear
temporarily
it didn't matter much

the bags I packed were essential
only to me
flashlight, TP, pbj sandwich, thermos of milky coffee
sleeping bag, OFF, latest book, drawing pad,
pens, lined paper,
a knife, a tomato to slice, a pre-buttered muffin

they all fit in my pack
and tied to the basket

made up a story
I got good at that
'going to a friends'
then took off pedaling
to the south side of town

camped by the Red River
scared like the Dickens
fell asleep exhausted
and slept almost til noon

no watch to tell the time
but the sun was high
and then I'd rise
and stretch
feeling the damp ease from my body

often I'd yell my Tarzan scream
no one but the birds to hear me
this is the part that cheered me
and then it wasn't so hard
to be eight years old

Yes, this is a true story..mine
from younger days long ago...one that I will always remember..
I was good at temporarily running away...and no one ever cared or knew.

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12;40 PM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR
THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD