Playmates

Playmates by Michael R. Burch WHEN you were my playmate and I was yours, we spent endless hours with simple toys, and the sorrows and cares of our indentured days were uncomprehended . . . far, far away . . . for the temptations and trials we had yet to face were lost in the shadows of an unventured maze. Then simple pleasures were easy to find and if they cost us a little, we didn't mind; for even a penny in a pocket back then was one penny too many, a penny to spend. Then feelings were feelings and love was just love, not a strange, complex mystery to be understood; while "sin" and "damnation" meant little to us, since forbidden cookies were our only lusts! Then we never worried about what we had, and we were both sure—what was good, what was bad. And we sometimes quarreled, but we didn't hate; we seldom gave thought to the uncertainties of fate. Hell, we seldom thought about the next day, when tomorrow seemed hidden—adventures away. Though sometimes we dreamed of adventures past, and wondered, at times, why things couldn't last. Still, we never worried about getting by, and we didn't know that we were to die . . . when we spent endless hours with simple toys, and I was your playmate, and we were boys. This is probably the poem that "made" me, because my high school English teacher called it "beautiful" and I took that to mean I was surely the Second Coming of Percy Bysshe Shelley! "Playmates" is the second poem I remember writing; I believe I was around 13 or 14 at the time. Playthings by Michael R. Burch a sequel to “Playmates” There was a time, as though a long-forgotten dream remembered, when you and I were playmates and the days were long; then we were pirates stealing plaits of daisies from trembling maidens fearing men so strong . . . Our world was like an unplucked Rose unfolding, and you and I were busy, then, as bees; the nectar that we drank, it made us giddy; each petal within reach seemed ours to seize . . . But you were more the doer, I the dreamer, so I wrote poems and dreamed a noble cause; while you were linking logs, I met old Merlin and took a dizzy ride to faery Oz . . . Then it came to pass you had no time for playthings, for with strong hands you built, with bricks and stone, tall buildings, then a life, and then you married. Now my fantasies, again, are all my own. This is a companion poem to “Playmates,” the second poem I remember writing, around age 13 or 14. However, I believe “Playthings” was written several years later, in my late teens, around 1977. According to my notes, I revised the poem in 1991, then again in 2020. Keywords/Tags: playmates, playthings, toys, childhood, child, children, adolescence, growing up