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Kelowna 1950's
Don Collier photo
I am homesick for a time
I thought would last forever:
golden days under the sun,
when the world and I were young.
Apple orchards and lake ripples,
flower scent upon the breeze -
life was innocent, and new,
days and nights of
joy and ease,
days and nights of
joy and ease,
storybook clouds in skies of blue,
all our dreams still up ahead
just waiting to come true.
Hanging on my grandma's gate,
ice cream truck tinkling down the street:
a shiny dime was riches then.
(Oh, I Remember When!)
Most houses, then, were five rooms small;
we wasted not one thing at all -
no plastic carted off each week,
no birds with string
caught in their beaks.
Now birds are falling from the sky,
as I look up and wonder why
we changed so much that we forgot
the lovely life of days gone by,
when the world and I were young,
and all our songs lay up ahead
just waiting to be sung.
For my prompt at What's Going On - Solastalgia - feeling homesick for the past; existential distress caused by environmental change.
Now the miles and miles of apple orchards I rode my bike past then are condos. The "country" has retreated to the far outskirts, past all the expensive cliffside mansions. Innocence lost, we all carry the weight of what today's affluence and excess has cost.
Ah, yes, Sherry. Those were such good days when a dime could buy something good from an ice cream truck and dreams were still ahead in one's life! Nice memories!
ReplyDelete"no birds with string
ReplyDeletecaught in their beaks.
Now birds are falling from the sky,"...I just felt like crying, reading these lines Sherry. So much change in these few years. Really don't know where we are heading to.
Yes it's all too awful especially for us because we knew something better. So much for progress.
ReplyDeleteFreaking condos, the modern curse. My favorite coffee bar where I sometimes read my poems, is condos now.
ReplyDeleteFeeling homesick for the past as I read your poem I thought about my grandmother. I am homesick for her smile.
ReplyDelete"Most houses, then, were five rooms small;
ReplyDeletewe wasted not one thing at all"
I remember that, both the smallness and the recycling. Everything had its use, and we all pitched in. Your poem, with its endless sunshine and hopeful future brought that blessed childhood back for me. Thank you.
i feel like wherever you grew up, the world felt like small towns. that feeling is gone.
ReplyDeleteIt is all so impersonal.
"the lovely life of days gone by,
ReplyDeletewhen the world and I were young,
and all our songs lay up ahead
just waiting to be sung."
You have captured what we had,
and I miss it.