When I was a child, I lived forever free,
imagining the world would be mine.
And like the bird, I knew how to sing.
To an innocent will, the cosmos consigned.
But as I grew, my wings did fall off:
the sun and rain, and years wore me thin.
Injustices of love made me scoff
I could scarcely recall the child I'd been.
For life's bright magic will fade away
with time, and trials, and injuries deep.
No soul escaping its judgement day,
the adult within begins to weep.
Had I the choice to live once more
I would withdraw my hand from Heaven's door.
No comments:
Post a Comment