Childhood is a pile of rocks

Near my house they were scattered
in the grass
black and brown and porous
they looked like the
backs of large and clumsy animals
playing hide and seek - badly

there were steps cut into them where
I sat with my grandfather
who was a hero when I was little
and then annoying as I grew older
which was unfair to him - for
 he was the same man
but it was I who lost the eyes of a child

we sat on those steps cut
into half hidden
porous rock animals hiding - badly
to watch sunsets - again and again
never growing tired
of the finger painting on that
great big iPad in the sky

Those steps and those rocks shrunk
over the years as I lost
my childhood eyes till they were not
magical anymore - just
porous rocks
scattered in grass
a pile of rocks
seeped in my childhood
for they let my innocence in
(they were porous)
as I sloshed it around
carelessly