child
the sun is in the fair east
my sorrows are not yet at my back
i look up at the joyous heavens
i have no grief nor lack
my wonderland is here
trinkets made from silver and gold
time is of the essence you see
for I only have a day to mold
my garden is my own
made from the petals of the sky
it grows in the chambers of the mind
spilling into life with endless supply
i build castles of ice and frost
only to melt them at repeat
with many battles and throngs
and mind games that shout no defeat
i am soft to the touch but wild in play
tomorrow I know will come soon
and i will have to harden with
the tide of the changeling moon
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