Easter Poetry

I don’t usually preface my poetry with a paragraph, but this poem needs a little bit of background. I’m in a rather nostalgic mood, missing my past childhood. Who doesn’t go through that all the time? Hell, I even miss Freshman year of college. It’s tough, looking back to times that were so unburdened.

The Easter (And life) of my childhood was so unburdened and unabashedly free, I really miss it. Now, my brother and I see each other on weekends, sometimes only every other week. One of my cousins is studying medicine at St. George’s School of Medicine, and the other is a Junior now at Stony Brook University. That life has fallen apart, and the Easters of my childhood are gone.

Gone are the jellybeans and egg hunts. The Easter baskets filled with fake shredded pastel colored grass. I miss it terribly. Now, holidays barely have any meaning. One day is like the next, and every day, I feel guilty for not having studied enough.

An egg hunt at the Botanical Gardens,
A frolic through rosebushes and daisies,
Blowing away dandelions under a splendid willow tree,
And the promise of hidden jellybeans.

Ice Cream cones from the Mr. Softee truck,
Parked outside the entrance to the Gardens,
Us four, inseparable, enjoying ice cream.
Chocolate-covered Vanilla, with sprinkles of course.

Collecting pretty pinecones,
Filling an Easter basket with eggs and pinecones,
A wonderful mix of pastel and brown,
Leaving a trail of Easter grass all around.

No religion, just an excuse to enjoy
A lovely Spring day in the garden.
A sweet bike ride, racing one another,
Still young enough to ride on the sidewalk.

Trading eggs,
Finding one with a surprise chocolate bunny inside.
Milk chocolate


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