Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien
At day’s end
when
shadows were long
we’d sit and dangle bare legs
over the edge
of the fire escape.
Looking down on the city
was sort-of magicy.
The smell of
bus-fumes-liver-and-onions-pot-curry
danced through the air
and the tiny people below
softened into vagueness
as the sun snuck off.
You and I would talk about
far away…
long ago…
yet to
be…
There were forests
full of green and grey,
swimming pools,
and yards big enough for puppies.
There were dragons and gargoyles
to be dealth with;
criminals to be fought,
awards to accept.
We could go anywhere,
do anything,
and nothing could stop us.
Except for mama
calling us to bed.
This is for The Mag creative writing site hosted by Tess Kincaid, and also linked to dVerse open link night. Click on the links and check them out for some great writing.
Those dragons and gargoyles have to be stopped haha fun to let the imagination go
ReplyDeleteThanks Pat! :o)
DeleteLove the flow of your poem, especially 'Looking down on the city
ReplyDeletewas sort-of magicy.' ~ nice evocative...
Thanks Humbird. I am fond of the word "magicy" of late. :o)
DeleteI adore this nostalgic poem, Mary...
ReplyDeletewhat a cool moment and perspective you chose...the birds eye view on the world below...i shared quite a few of those conversations with friends....bus-fumes-liver-and-onions-pot-curry...ha i love the smell you chose for it...smiles.
ReplyDeleteThanks Brian...quite the combination, I know. :o)
Deleteha. i still love the city.
DeleteI felt as if I was in a dream...until mama called. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteThanks Lynette. Glad it worked for you.
Deleteyes- reminds me of my childhood summers!
ReplyDeleteWe could do anything then, couldn't we Kathe? Thanks for stopping by.
DeleteI love this. So much. Could be a scene from a movie, or straight from the childhood of many some decades ago. Your poem really touched me.
ReplyDeleteperfect..x
ReplyDeleteExcellent. Beautiful imagery ... sense of carefree days ...loved it!
ReplyDeleteThe city takes on a new view from the fire escape above where dreams
ReplyDeletetakes seed...I enjoyed this one..
Love it ... everyone should have a bosom friend in whom to confide all childhood's secrets and fantasies and yes, everyone should have a loving mama to call out, "Time for bed!" This is a lovely piece!
ReplyDeleteI like your take on the fire escape as a place to make up stories and dream.
ReplyDeleteWould you believe it? I'm reading your poem and Chicago's 25 or 6 to 4 is playing on my internet radio station. Loved your poem. It brought back memories of similar scenarios.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Haha - that's cool! Thanks, I'm glad this one resonated with you. :o)
DeleteGreat capture, I love it. So beautiful.....
ReplyDeleteLike Lovecraft, you have taken a little chunk of the city as a portal and whisked us back to a time when it was more alive , this is a great talent to have my friend , and thank you...cheerio !
ReplyDeleteWow - thanks K.! :o)
DeleteAh, what a sweet vision of growing up in the city and dreaming of what's beyond. Lovely, Mary.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ginny.
DeleteOh, how lovely. Tugged at every little heart string in me.
ReplyDeleteAwww - thank you Helen. :o)
DeleteLovely and evocative...you took me back with you...
ReplyDeleteThank you Tess. And thanks for providing the picture.
DeleteI love it ~ Those were carefree imaginative hours before we go home for supper ~
ReplyDeleteI always wished that time of day could go on forever.
ReplyDeleteWe all felt that way at one point.
ReplyDeleteThis is great Mary, I love nostalgic journeys into peoples past. Well done.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully lovely nostalgia. Magical poem really. Ah, those were the days.......
ReplyDeleteSmiling, got to love those kinds of days.
ReplyDeleteCity livin' and growin up "on the roof" - wish it had been me. While you dreamed of castles in spain, in Texas I dreamed of "the Stork club", the round table at the Algonquin, Times Square, Metropolitan, the Julliard School, and Broadway...as I gazed across yellow grass at a commanding water tower and wondered if there was anywhere that wasn't flat as a pancake. Well penned.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is wistful and nostalgic. :-) I love the last line especially.
ReplyDeleteah smiles... city children.... we used to do the same, just we sat on a tree in our more small town setting... smiles..i like that you wove in smell as well
ReplyDeleteWhat could be seen, smelt and heard in our childhood. Your imagery held me, thank you for this delightful read.
ReplyDeleteI love it... Have never experienced a city like that, but somehow through films and books you took me straight there...
ReplyDeleteGosh darn good images in my head, and I can still smell those liver and onions... your writing is so right on in a magicy kind of nostalgic way!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully poignant. I can still hear my mother's end of the day calls yet!
ReplyDeleteooh I love this...you nailed it with this poem coupled with this image.
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ReplyDeleteThis was a poem for the senses. I could see it, feel it, smell it a hear it. It was sensational...I loved it!
ReplyDeleteWonderfully nostalgic and evocative.
ReplyDeleteMary, what a stunningly great twist to close. Fine response to the prompt, but really a wonderful stand-alone piece, too. ~
ReplyDeleteNicely evoked! :)
ReplyDelete