AlAnoud Writes

I miss the days when life was small,

When nothing hurried, nothing called.

When every road was known to me,

And home was where I’d always be.

I’d leave my school, my day complete,

And scan the road for something sweet

A glimpse of Dad’s familiar car,

And suddenly, the world was ours.

I’d climb inside, so safe, so glad,

Just me, the road, and dearest Dad.

No grand adventure, nothing new,

Just going home was all I knew.

I’d clean my shoes, put books away,

And eat the food from that day.

It wasn’t always food I’d choose,

But somehow still, there was no blues.

Then homework done, the clock struck five,

And suddenly I felt alive.

That little flutter in my chest

Five o’clock meant freedom at its best.

My sisters waiting, side by side,

My two best friends, my world, my pride.

We’d laugh and play until the sky

Grew softer underneath our eyes.

The world was big from five to seven,

A little kingdom sent from heaven.

Two precious hours, both wild and free,

With everything I needed near me.

At seven, bedtime would arrive,

And somehow we were still alive

Still dreaming of the games we’d play,

And knowing we’d repeat the day.

Then dinner came, then sleep, then morning,

No heavy thoughts, no quiet warning.

Just school, and Dad, and home again,

The same sweet circle, now and then.

I used to think that I was poor

Because I wanted something more.

But now I know; I had such wealth:

Two sisters laughing, home, and health.

I had a father waiting there,

A mother’s kitchen, warm with care,

Two little hands to hold and run,

And hours that stretched beneath the sun.

How strange that what I once called small

Was, in the end, my greatest all.

I’d give so much, if I could be

Five o’clock again, at thirtythree 

With Dad’s old car just down the street,

My sisters waiting, something sweet,

A plate of food, a homework page,

And all the world beyond our age.

Oh, take me back, not far, not wide,

Just to that home, that car, that ride.

Back to the life I didn’t know

Was precious then, so long ago.

Back to the magic I could feel,

When every little thing was real

When five meant freedom, seven meant sleep,

And I was rich beyond belief.

I miss the girl who didn’t know

How quickly simple days would go.

Who thought her little world was small

Not knowing she possessed it all.