PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

little women of my childhood gravel lane,

fill out a part of my memory of

linked-wooden houses built on stilt.

their crowning glories still so vivid;

how they flipped like a pendulum from

shoulder to shoulder as they ran;

those different-styled hair

each carving a story and character in

my own little women world;

straight, graceful tresses,

shoulder-length lioness-styled crown,

and their varied-toned skins;

fair, dark, palsy so many different shades

in one family, it's a wonder how genes work.

all these differences held tight by a love

that flowed so abundantly from shy mom and salt fish market businessman dad.

how they had run helter skelter

from their games of rope jumping, hide and seek, hopscotch,....

for home when they saw daddy

strolling home with his straw basket round his elbow, the dollars and cents of the day to get the family runnning.

his subtle gentle smile that hid a world of love for the frightful children in his presence.

the children who all earned

much favours from their

keen attitude towards studies

and those paper bags they

so skillfully folded and

gummed for daddy's merchandise

as well as for friends

to earn those extra cents

to get tickets for the

next famous epics from

hong kong, taiwan.

brother fell in love with one fair one

in his upper secondary study.

a puppy love that soon turned sour.

my childhood lane's only broken heart

story.

my childhood lane

how every inch is still

still filled with

experiences sweet, sour, bitter,

a part of my life

that runs like a cartoon movie.

those childhood characters

I wonder whether

they could spare some time

with me to to walk down

those cement blocks and

tarred road

that still hide so many

stories and joys.

and could that be their best days too?