Childhood Quiet

I miss the quietness of my childhood.
Lying on my tummy in the tall orchard grass,
Shooting marbles under the clothesline
With my older brother,
No jets howling across the sky,
No television blaring with no one watching.

Stories were told in the quiet of evening
By glow of coal oil lamps,
Songs were sung at dusk in German,
Or soft Spanish.
Days end was a special time then,
At night the house was very quiet.
No radio left on till midnight,
No dripping faucet.

I loved the quiet of my childhood. 
Lying in bed listening to the wind and
Building magic in my mind.
There is no quiet anywhere now it seems.
​I miss it.