How they haunt me still
like playmates’ naughty taunts.
The old church bell
the lilacs’ smell,
the lilting daffodils.
Narrow, cobbled streets,
sidewalk market stalls;
old crones bleating sales
down at Fanueil Hall;
Fish for sale along the harbor’s
rim dead eyes staring,
sorrowful and grim.

Garlic and spaghetti
and East Side corner gangs;
weddings and confetti
and ancient streetcars clang.
Ivy-covered walls
and painted leaves in fall;
ghetto street kids playing
kick the can; old Italian vendors
touting crabs and clams.
Windows full of mothers
staring at the view;
a house chock-full of brothers,
drinking home-made brew.

Memories of childhood,
how they haunt me still,
And though I ponder all life long
I guess they always will.

Alicia Patti

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memories-of-childhood/