The Streets of Childhood

The streets I trod As an innocent and naive child Appeared as gold-paved and rosy-hued And the brilliant light of optimism Shone on all and everything, Banishing worrisome dark shadows. Only now as an adult, Weary with experience Does walking those same streets Reveal their true character. There are cracks in the pavements And weeds line the kerbs. The house windows seem malevolent Like the eyes of a beast Indigenous to the Concrete Jungle, Waiting to pounce and devour My childhood hopes and dreams. Shadows are dark and mysterious Filled with secret snickering and threat Of unnameable hurt and pain. The streets of my childhood Are hardly changed in all the years I have been maturing into adulthood. I have changed and found perception. How I wish to be a child again And escape this cruel reality: Rediscover the age of innocence That once protected me from life.