Here is My Childhood: Counting, Counting, Counting
I would like to be a
child again
Sat on my mother’s lap having
my hair combed
Drowsy with leftover
dreams (or
drowsy with dreams to come)
Counting my fingertips
Marveling in my
three-year old self
I would like to be a
child again
Sat on the porch with
my grandmother
With Nassau breeze
cooling my cheeks
Counting flame-topped
poincianas (or
sugar-apple seeds)
Enjoying the simplicity
of 1, 2, 3
I would like to be a
child again
Sat on my aunt’s bed carefully
applying lipstick to my eyes
Trying to be a
masterpiece (or
an artless approximation)
Counting the time until
Sesame St.
Falling asleep in the
sheets
I would like to be a
child again
Sat on the family room
carpet with
my grandfather
Entertained with tickles (or
gentle pinches)
Counting the plaits on my
head
Waiting for my mother
I would like to be a
child again
Sat on the bus with
Sabbie eager
for an afternoon of freedom
Pretending to be adult
Counting the stops we
make (or
the people in red)
Yearning to say ‘bus
stop!”
I would like to be a
child again
Three or four
Oblivious to anything but
myself and
my mother and my pleasure
I would like to be a
child again
Spoilt and indulged
Loving only myself and
my mother and my family
I would like to be a
child again
Intelligent and ignorant
Needing only myself and
my mother and a bed and a book
I would like to be a
child again counting,
counting, counting
