Often times we desire the feel of childhood, again, where we can be careless at someone else's expense. But as we grow older we tend to realize that we have to fend for ourselves.; here is where life becomes real.
We plunder through our memories;
Drawing out the best of it.
We hold tight to our emotions
Coming to a halt to reminisce.
We question our thoughts,
What is it that we feel amiss?
Is it the moments unretunrned
Or the people that have changed?
But no! It is the childhood carelessness;
The naivety to this disguised world.
Someone to cast our bags of burden on;
Someone to blame for our folly.
And now we part the canopied foliage,
Exposed to the heat and gravel road.
We look back to the swift, scattered trail.
We look down to the straight, fading footprints.