I grew up in an old world.

I grew up in the old days

That only exists in stories

Of walks in icy cold tundra

Miles and miles to school.

 

Except my icy cold tundra was

The Sunshine State golden glow

With heat that soaks your skin

And rain that’s an afternoon feature.

 

I grew up on a long street

That wasn’t run by adults

No homeowners association

No debates about grass heights

 

Instead, five curious minds

Whose eyes saw everything

The gray house on the corner

To the giant flower magnolias.

 

They were the kings and queens.

The explorers, the architects

And the landscapers of their world.

They were the creators.

 

Roaming free, sun up to sun down.

No part left untouched

Only to stop to lay under the trees

To watch the sun play with the leaves.

 

Their world wasn’t crowded

With impossibilities and necessities

Their world survived on old magic

Eyes that imagine and believe

 

From the first peek out the window

Checking if life had opened its eyes

Sunlight dipping through the blinds

Showing them the escape from darkness

 

From season to season the stories changed

But the canvas grew up with them

Accommodating the stretches and pulls

Of where their laughs would take them.

 

Often times it led their world to stretch

So far into their dreams giving comfort

As their adventures came alive

In front of their eyes like a movie screen

 

Always questioning and pushing

The boundaries of what’s beyond

Reaching out with their hands

Easing the grip on their childhood.

 

I grew up on this street.

There is a girl with blonde curls

Peeking out from behind a tree

Eyes twinkle with a secret.