Fifty beyond Seven

by john clare

at seven beyond fifty the realization that I'm here hits me
Looking about the things I did at seven still intrigue me
The bike, the boat, the drawing pad and oils, the sandpile.
From twenty to fifty I set them aside for a time
But always kept them close just for this time
When no one really minds that you
stay in your sandpile and quietly play
with the bike, the boat, the oils, scribbling silly lines,
digging toward China.
And living in a past that left you half a century ago.