Poem Tryouts: Some Things Never Grow Old

2:34 p.m. — San Antonio

No time to listen, but hold this space.

Hi, everyone. I don’t want to say I forgot I had a post to write today; more like, it didn’t appear through the fog until now. Another image, to start us.

Insomnia and the Poet

Ignore the title, although it’s why I picked the image, originally. That and the blowing bubbles. Some things never lose the magic they held for us in childhood. For me, it’s blowing bubbles and Crayola crayons. List the things which for you still hold that childhood magic, when you see them. Your poem can focus on an item, itself, and something you want to say about it, or you can write about its magic.

I am missing all of you, but still won’t be able to come around and comment. Any free time is spent in a rather zombified state… although, I may try to come around right now and read last week’s. A plan.

See you next Tuesday for our next prompt.

Happy writing, all.