Melancholy musings must
As everything, regress to dust.
All things return from whence they came,
Doth my memory the same.
Sparks of Spring-blessed childhood.
Early risings and cool dawn grass,
As sunrise amplified reality
Granting tiny temporary kingdoms
To my imaginative keeping.
Barefoot child I,
Twixt river and orchard wild,
Would careless spend my day
Full of mud, fruit and fae.
Until as is wont, up I grew.
Something one should never do..