Was there ever that child in me,
Whose crayon box fast devolved into
Broken bits, short stubs revealing favorite colors,
Confident, vigorous marks escaped the paper’s edge?
Was there ever that child in me,
Romping in little cotton underwear, happy belly,
At perfect ease, no thought to my shape
My only concern to get bigger?
Was there ever that child in me,
Born to play, quick to laugh
Every day inventing a new game, joke, delight
Sometimes shared, sometimes kept to myself; original?
Was there ever that child in me,
Open face revealing all emotions,
Delight/ concern/ hurt, swiftly visible,
holding out my hand in simple trust?
Pencilonmybackporch 
You’ve used that questioning refrain so powerfully here! “Was there ever that child in me…” I can really relate to that question and to this beautifully crafted, thought-provoking poem. Well done!
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Fran,
You captured your granddaughter so well in this poem as you wonder and compare her to your younger self. I like how you start with an object she uses, then obsserve her body movements, her voice as she plays and then ends with her feelings. I am SO glad you have been with her to observe and see every aspect of her being. But I’m especially glad for all the times she reached out and grabbed your hand over the past weeks! Love your last line: holding out my hand in simple trust? As you question, I feel I am moved to action. Thanks for sharing.
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Oooh, Fran! You have written such a gorgeous, eloquent poem that harkens back to the younger version of yourself.
You’ve taken me back to my childhood with your poem… wondering what my younger self thought of the world as I walked through it. I have some memories of my younger self, but this is making me ponder about them more carefully this morning. Thanks for that trip backwards.
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Well written 🙂 And there was such a child in most of us.
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Your poem is an invitation to embrace where we have been. Take a bit of its essence with us to simultaneously reflect and let go! I miss the idea of my broken crayon box–but not those half crayons that jammed things up when trying to slide a crayon back into an open slot. 😆
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I love the verbs: romping, inventing, revealing. They capture the abandon of childhood and your repeated line makes me feel as though you are marveling at the innocence of such a child. Thanks for sharing!
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I love this poem, Fran. Like the other commenters, I keep reading the refrain and wondering. what my younger self would have thought of this.
Frankly, I don’t think my younger self would have mused much on these big ideas – which makes it all the more wonderful. While I know that childhood is certainly less carefree than we idealize it to be, there’s still something to be said for the childlike way of viewing the world.
I suppose I could use a refresher course…
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