For whom
the dreams of childhood
For some it brings hurt
For some it stirs longing
In the span of a life lived here on earth
Childhood looms as a
Fertile ground planted with imagination
And vibrant with life, smells, and freedom
OR it is a dark burial ground for a piece of us never found or left behind
So we are left not whole
Not yet…
As we grow, just as a tree, the bark heals where the limb was cut off,
but still its absence remains.
What were those dreams we dreamt
Under the shade tree?
The grand plans that drew our breath there
Does the courage remain
That we had back then?
Our tiny bodies strong with adventure and lithe with possibility
Do we still dream those dreams of childhood
Or have they been pushed aside
Choices we make, things we pursue
How do we become
More like that child…