It was a different place
From the small rural village
That I live in
At the time.
Magical make-believe world
Where music and humour
From another time
Opened my eyes.
Laughing and crying
At the zany impossible plots
Of every episode
Singing to the songs.
Never grasping
Cynical commercial crastness
That played upon
My naive innocence
As a young child.
Racing home
After the final bell had rung
Marking school's end
And tv's time starts.
Rightly or wrongly
Television was viewed
By a different lense
In the latter half
Of the 1970s
From today's standards.
Engaging
This fantasy realm
Where dreams are born
In a tinkling of an eye
And opening notes
Of a song.
Forever faded
Into childhood nostalgia
Sugarcoating reality
With a fondness
Never to be repeated.
Long after
The dreamer has awoken
And forced to faced
Reality's ugly truth.
Life goes on.
Therisa © 2019
Author's note: Goodbye, Peter Tork. Thank you, for the childhood memories.
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