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The Child Within

The beauty of innocence

By Colleen Millsteed Published 8 months ago 2 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

This poem has been written as part of Sahil Patel's (Medium writer) Lifeline's poetry prompts. Thank you, Sahil for the invite.

Today's prompt is: Poetry is a great way to reconnect with your inner child. Write a poem describing the delight, innocence, and nostalgia that are evoked when an adult finds a treasured childhood toy and plays with it. Consider how this experience has affected their relationships and current life, incorporating feelings into your poetry.

The Child Within

The beauty of innocence

Digging through the drawers, silently searching,

For what?

I can no longer remember! Some adult thing needed for repairs,

Or for some such thing I hid in a 'safe' place so I wouldn't lose it.

Instead I found a little touch of my childhood innocence.

**

Much to my delight the things that have sidetracked me,

There in front of my eyes are two small round stone like objects.

Marbles - or maybe better known as Doogs.

A favourite childhood game we used to play with tiny glass balls,

Two of those balls now sitting familiarly in the palm of my hand.

**

Oh, the feel of my doogs make my mind wander,

To the excitement and anticipation of entering the ring,

To be the next possible crowned king (or queen in my case),

The opportunity to beat my brother,

In a competitiveness that forever taunted us.

**

I roll the marbles in my fingers,

Listening to the sounds as they clash,

Memories rush through my mind from that simple noise.

The flick of a once young thumb,

Shooting my opponents doogs outside the ring.

**

Air pumping as I shout in glee,

Once more my aim was true,

That feeling of ecstasy as my marble crashes through the inner barrier.

Never once realising the life lessons running through the game,

Lessons I still carry with me to this day.

**

The harshness of a competitive streak,

The anticipation of the challenge invoked,

The joy of the win.

The take no enemies, the foundation of friendship temporarily cast aside,

Keeping one's eye upon the prize.

**

Tiny glass balls of pristine colours of the kaleidoscope,

But the deliciousness of such simplicity.

The warpath that's highlighted by a flick of a tiny thumb,

The fights, the honour, the esteem,

And the beauty of innocence.

Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.

Originally published on Medium

social commentarychildrens poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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Comments (6)

  • Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock8 months ago

    Marbles! What a treasure they once were to us. And what a beautiful description of that time in our lives.

  • Grz Colm8 months ago

    Ah very sweet. Great work. You don’t see marbles around much anymore.. there’s a joke somewhere there but I won’t say it. 😄 Excellent nostalgic piece! 😊

  • Mariann Carroll8 months ago

    The gratitude of happy childhood moments take the edge of some of life misery

  • Omgggg those marbles!!! I used to be so obsessed with them and I had a huge collection. I have no idea what happened to it. Oh how I love the sound the make when I roll them in my hand! Loved your wonderful poem my friend!

  • Andrew C McDonald8 months ago

    I remember the thrill of the clashing glass spheres … The feeling of setting my “Aggie” into the notch of thumb and forefinger, preparing to bomb my opponent’s psychedelic balls from the circular arena in the dirt. This took me back so much. Thank you.

  • Joe Patterson8 months ago

    Very thought provoking.

Colleen Millsteed Written by Colleen Millsteed

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