Ode to Childhood

Sticky fingered, wide eyed, loose footed

I wandered curiously through life, unknowing

Yet so certain. Certain that the firm arms that lifted

Me up, and held me tight, were never going to let me go.

Cardboard books, wooden blocks, felt dolls scattered

The floor. I would receive sliced apples

on pastel plastic plates and when my eyes became hooded

I would be carried to bed. No one had expectations of me.

Wind blowed, time flowed, and I was told

To love the life I was living. But

how could I know how everything would unfold

And how scary the life I was living.

The realization was shocking, and the thoughts it was unlocking, was cold

In its harsh reality. Being young was awful fun, and

the mellow mists of freedom were always welcome. To hold

And to have, is all that I wish, as I slowly drown in life’s demands.

How I miss the days where my hair was unkempt,

And life was an organized cacophony of beauty and the

Spurring of the spectacular. Now, I am not exempt

From the world of agendas, and tantalizing control that is tyrannous in its existence.

I must confess, that in my unrest all hope has been forgotten.