A Bag Called Me: a childhood poem about childhood experiences being the architects of our future brains

A Bag Called Me

Be a kid
Enjoy the ride
Pause a while
Step outside

Frozen now
For shortest time
Look around
Upwards climb

Scan the view
and hold it still
Come back soon
You never will

So what you can
Pack in your case
And take it to
A future place

When you’re there
Way down the line
Open it
Let it shine

Reminding you
from green to gold
What you held
You still hold

Awe, belief
Hope and fear
Carried all
From then to here

What you were
Is what you be
Past and present
In a bag called,‘Me.’

©2009 Mark Bird

💡 I've always loved a childhood poem. 'To Any Reader' by Robert Louis Stevenson is one of my favourite poems ever. In the 80s, me and my friends were nostalgic about childhood even when we children ourselves. We'd often listen to Johnny Hates Jazz - Turn Back The Clock before a teenage night out on the town like we were already old and wise. I'd love you to share your favourite childhood poem so I can collate and share them on my blog. Maybe you could write your own childhood poem from either a child's or adult's perspective. Are childhood experiences really the architects of our future brains?