You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘glorious’ tag.
When I was a boy, and all throughout my teenage years,
I was an artist, an athlete, an adventurer,
who knew nothing about the world
other than to never be held back by my fears.
I used to run, cycle, explore, for hours at a time
through my homes countryside open-air-
racing down lanes and over fields,
as the winds of my childhood blew through my curly blond hair.
I remember a summer when my friends and I decided to build a time machine-
I told my friends that it would be easy:
“Doc Brown made one out of a car”,
and I described how easy that had been-
so we outfitted a go-cart with a modified sweet-box, some wires,
a watch, and a calculator- all to my exacting specifications;
and then my friends and I all took turns on our “time machine”,
each time travelling to a myriad of historic and futuristic destinations.
As an adult I have had this recurring thought and daydream for many years
of going back to my “blond hair days”,
sitting down on a bench with my younger self,
and simply talking to myself, and telling myself a story:
a tale of tears and sadness, but also one of energy, inspiration,
love, imagination, and cherished glory.
I would tell myself how one day the world is going to change,
but that everything is going to be alright;
and that magic is real, but it doesn’t always present itself
in colours of black and white.
I would tell myself to remember these times in my life,
because these are the days that I will return to often,
and which strengthen my worlds bonds.
What a time I had, what days they were,
when I was blond!
There is no other time of the year as energizing as right now,
there is no other season like Summer to take your breath away,
engulf you, and make you go wow!
There is no other time of your childhood
that you look back on more and reminisce,
there is no other feeling as comparable as that of Summer’s kiss.
The wind is sparing, the air is close-
the pavements are simmering with so much heat
you could almost make toast!
The streets are like greenhouses,
capturing and funneling the days heat between every building-
almost turning ponds into baths, and fountains into hot-springs.
No matter the heat,
no temperature can dwell the glee of the young!
The joyful cries of children playing in the street
is like the song of the sun, a rhyme for all-time,
that can only be heard from the lips of the innocents tongue.
The smells in the air are always exquisite-
from the aroma of a barbecue, to the scent of a floral perfume;
the taste of food is heightened-
from the strawberries that we eat,
to the ice cream that we consume.
Tennis is on TV, the music festivals are in full-swing
and attract and unite thousands en masse-
everyone wants to be part of the enthusiasm of the here and now,
because they know that it will be gone in a flash.
No British summer would ever be the same
if, along with the gorgeous sunshine,
we didn’t get a shower or two of the great British rain;
but after a long and sticky day
sometimes there can be nothing else more welcome,
and the distinctive smell in the air that follows
always invigorates and stops you from feeling glum.
Summertime is a glorious spell
that enchants me every year without fail, I have to confess-
never do I long for any other days
than for the warm and beautiful embraces of Summers magical caress.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 