The Child Within
In our dream, we feel like a child again
bending each nighttime fret into pretend.
Lest lost to the trials of aging's dark din
hoping it will be gentle in the end.
Who we used to be, we are now no more -
wee voices who cried out to let life begin.
Ever roaming, trying to then explore
finding spaces for sunny dreams to live in.
When young, wherever we are, we become;
warming sun beams hold hugs forever then.
To a sense of place we'll yield, soon succumb;
a restful refuge on which we depend.
From our nest, peek out to the world way wide -
they're too few lands left where children can hide.
114 words sonnet
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