As a child, my world was a symphony of sounds and melodies that swirled around me in a whirlwind of wonder. I’d hum along to familiar tunes, losing myself in the rhythms and beats. I let the music take me to places beyond reality, stimulating my already wild imagination.

During these innocent times, I’d often mutter senseless, totally absurd rhymes in place of the regular lyrics. In doing so, I’d create my own whimsical world of words that made no logical or rational sense, yet sounded magical nonetheless. It was as if the music unlocked a secret language within me, one that only I could understand.

I fondly remember sitting in my room, with my cassette player on full blast. My headphones would cover my ears like a shield from the outside world. I’d sway to the music, my body moving in time with the beat, and my voice blending in with the melody. I let the music wash over me, turning me into a vessel for its magic.

These were prime times for the silly rhymes to emerge, tumbling out of my mouth in a semiconscious jumble. But it didn’t matter if there was any sense to them; after all, in the moment, I was lost in the music, escaping to my own world of whimsy.

Sometimes I’d even make up my own songs, creating melodies out of thin air, with the lyrics flowing in a stream of consciousness.These songs of a child’s mind had given me the power to create my own reality. There I could shape my own destiny, in a secret language no one else could decode.

Looking back, I realize how precious and innocent those moments were. As an adult, it’s all too easy to get lost in the stresses and pressures of everyday life. We must never forget the simple pleasures that once brought us so much joy. In all fairness, while many of those silly rhymes have been lost to time, they were important practice. They led to the poetry I would write over the next two decades.

When I think back to those days of humming and muttering senseless rhymes, I’m reminded of the beauty of childhood, the magic of music, and the power of imagination. I’m grateful for those memories, because they remind me that even in the darkest of times, there’s always a melody waiting to be heard if we take the time to listen.

But even now, I still can’t decode the secret language of the child’s mind, even that which was once my own. Still, even with the passage of so much time, I still won’t stop me from trying to recapture that now hidden magic, to relearn the secret language of the child’s mind.

~ Amelia Desertsong