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“ Sandboxes ”
– and rainbows –
Time played us so
Carefree of puerile,
As though forever
We’d live the while,
In wishful rainbows
That so beguiled,
Till hint of shadow
When of a sudden,
We’re cast adrift
Of childhood days,
Denied of sandboxes
Thus to find our way…
Now adult vision
Edges to fashion,
Of chance choices
In unlike passions,
Be soon worn thin
Held best assume,
Find remote whim
Of wearisome spins…
Yet period plagues
With insipid wishes,
And easy daydreams
Of undying rainbows,
In sandbox dwellings!
© Jean-Jacques Fournier
o.v. 1st written Summer of 1983, in LA, California
Painting, Children playing in a sandbox by James Le Jeune
Music, Kevin MacLeod – Incompetech Air Prelude #15
The view from childhood is like a mirage compared to adulthood. Lovely poem.
You are right, Paulette, as in the innocence and non experience of said childhood, then being on the inside looking out. Though soon enough and reaching adulthood the mirage crumbles into puzzling pieces of reality… that has us involuntarily peeking back at faded and distorted imaged pressureless sandboxes and rainbow memories. Alas the child in me never ceases to play mind games with my aging head…
Your poem captures so well the endless summer of children and the fact that however we long to return to it now, that longing is “incipid.”
True enough, but if we don’t dwell too long on those childhood memories and all the worthy ones that follow, they become the picture of a life, including the insipid bits, that allows us to appreciate the whole sufficiently to write in one fashion or other… that helps keep yours truly scribbling away and out of harms way… Thank you Liz, for your ongoing interest.
I especially liked your thought – “that has us involuntarily peeking back at faded and distorted imaged pressureless sandboxes and rainbow memories.” I have an excellent memory for detail (just asked Don – when I remind him of all those past conversations. LOL) My childhood memories are crisp and ever fresh, without any distortion as to those endless summer days of pure sunshine. Those sandboxes were full of drama – laughter and tears, friendly chatter and angry fights. Adults asking us to share toys even as they had difficulty sharing their resources. Your brilliant poem reminds me to be present now – that we are still in the sandbox trying to figure out how to work together, share resources, value individual differences. We continue to grow, learn and explore.
Ah, Rebecca, lucky you for having such a a fantastic memory. Sadly, though I could once make such a like claim, I could not now do so, nor even then long after, when 37 years ago, when I first wrote Sandboxes and rainbows, and the progressive years that followed, to what I assumed most people might experience.
Poetry and mine at least, is never all encompassing, but rather infers, suggests, imagines and proposes bits and pieces of life meant to evoke, so as one may share or see in my reflection something to which they can relate. Thus so as you just did in your comment about your extraordinary memory recall… Thank you for that, Rebecca!