forgottenmeadows

thoughts from my mind to yours

Dust of Childhood

21 Comments

I trace with my finger,

the dust that settled with time,

over these old pages of mine,

as I remember,

my once favourite book,

with fond memories,

of childhood,

as IΒ reminiscence,

with this dust of childhood.

cool fall

Author: forgottenmeadows

I am a dreamer and a writer who loves to ponder on the words of the soul.

21 thoughts on “Dust of Childhood

  1. Yes!! πŸ™‚ I know that feeling! πŸ™‚ But I don’t feel very far away from little Line at all, in fact I feel like I am still her, it’s just that since I have a grown-up look people take me more seriously now and listen to me πŸ™‚

  2. Really….really like this one Neha!! πŸ™‚
    (and I apologize for the somewhat “dark” response to your “summer” collaboration. I get why you questioned it…it’s just what came out of me the moment I saw your photo πŸ™‚

    • Hi Lorrie, Thank you so much! and yes that’s OK, as I thought about it I could see your muse coming from the photograph it was beautiful even though it was on the dark side πŸ™‚ I think everything came together really well with your piece and it continues to do so …so thank you for sharing it with us πŸ™‚

      • Thanks Neha!! I was involved with something “life” and wanted to get back to you about it sooner. I love that you run these collaborations…it is so much fun…and that is how it works with me…I look at your photo and then just start writing. Thanks again!! Lorrie

      • Any time and I am glad you like them ❀ ❀

  3. The dust of my childhood has been replaced by the cobwebs in my aged mind.

  4. Your poems paint more than just vivid images in my mind… I feel like I’m you, experiencing exactly what it was you were experiencing when you wrote (or were inspired to write) the words. Very beautiful and powerful work πŸ™‚

  5. Neha, your talent amazes me. Thank you. Love, Amy

  6. The dust of my childhood – I prefer not to see. Not anymore. πŸ™‚

  7. childhood maybe the dust are still there right?

  8. i just meant child hood is hidden somewhere inside us we just have to search deep to go there.Is my interpretation of your poem complex sorry πŸ™‚

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