It’s Over

Posted on by Baffy Basics

It’s over.

The happy, carefree week of joy

has come to an end.

I’ve been transported back from

warm, sunny days full of smiles

and memories I’ll forever cherish

back to the cold, dreary world

I’ve spent years trying to escape.

As the half-frozen rains

and bone-chilling breezes

greet my face when I step out the door,

I recall the satisfaction

I had just days before

and remembering vacation reminds me that

it’s over.

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Where I’m From

Posted on by Baffy Basics

I am from Parma,

Right next to Cleveland.

I’m from board games,

Like pretty princess and Candyland.

 

I am from a pink bedroom

In the only yellow house on the street.

I’m from a wooden swing set

That I hang from by my feet.

 

I am from outside adventures

And enjoying the periodic rainfall.

I’m from pumpkin trash bags

That I stuff with leaves in the fall

 

I am from using my stuffed animals

In my room to build a wall.

I’m from organizing Furbies

And cutting hair off my Barbie doll.

 

I am from bologna and mustard

And SpongeBob mac and cheese.

I’m from going to grandma’s house

And asking for blue blueberry muffins, please.

 

I am from Hubba Bubba

And that skittle flavored gum.

I’m from building snowmen

Until my hands go numb.

 

I am from Skip it and Bop-its,

and an endless supply of chalk.

I’m from dress up and costumes,

And practicing my model walk.

 

I am from being the oldest sibling

And at annoying my little brother.

I’m from accidentally hurting him

And hiding from my angry mother.

 

I am from using my imagination

And having fun with what I’ve got.

I’m from fearing the wooden spoon,

Knowing I’d probably get a swat.

 

 

I am from playing on trampolines,

Doing flips and playing popcorn.

I’m from silly jump rope games

and figuring out many babies will be born.

 

I am from going camping,

Eating s’mores and making crafts.

I’m from archery and horse riding,

And floating on the lake in rafts.

 

I am from sleepovers with pizza

At the apartment of my friend.

I’m from hiding from my mom,

When she comes so they never end.

 

I am from riding my purple bike

Up and down the driveway.

I’m from walking home from school

At the end of the school day.

 

I am from swim meets in the summer,

And playing cards between events.

I’m from eating the orange slices

During soccer games from the parents.

 

I am from licking the bowl,

cleaning it of brownie mix.

I’m from my mother’s distress

When I find all the Pixie Stix.

 

I am from a past

That is vivid and 3-D.

I’m from a childhood

That has made me, me.

 

*I wrote this poem for one of my college papers. I hope you enjoyed it ( And I hope I got an A) *