Childhood
There is a world of endless exploration,
The whole of life yet at its blissful berm,
A place of wonder and imagination,
With views of this world in its purest form.
A world that all have paid a passing visit,
And drove men mad with longing for another,
Its greatness, not realized whilst they were in it,
For years was cause of unsatisfied hunger.
For only once can this grand place be seen,
Its innocence can never be regained,
Its borders crushed by an aging world obscene,
And not but precious memories remain.
From this world there is much that can be learned,
Though, sadly, there’s no hope of our return.
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