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for the boys of their youth, and for Andrew who lovingly reminded me of the boys of my youth

Bikes racing
deals raging
love making
weed rolling
boxed glowing
scraps placing
love lost pacing
hearts breaking
tunes pumping
laughter blasting
fists smashing
girls of their youth
loving
the boys of their youth.

Hi Kim,

My youth wasn't that long ago. This poem reminded me of being 14.
Getting home from school, grabbing a sandwich and cordial, jumping
on my bike and going down the 'park'. I'd take my pack of Winnie reds
from my sock, spit, light the ciggie and blow smoke rings. Then I'd spit
again. There were 6 or 7 in my gang - we called ourselves The Park Boys.
We never got into a blue (fight) but we never told anyone that! We
thought we were pretty damned cool! So many broken hearts, so much
'laughter blasting'.

Here's to the boys and the girls of their youth.

Thank you,
Boss

ahhh, Boss, I love it! Your memories are perfect; 14 is perfect with all of its imperfectness. It is lovely when memories are reawakened.
Cheers, and thanks for the post.
Kim