The child within

June 8, 1981

Child, where did you run to? And why did you go? Why I tilted with windmills and slept in fresh snow, I chased fleeting rainbows To see where they go. I bowled thunder with cherubs and rolled up such scores that I bought up half-interest In the world's candy stores. I rescued a butterly caught in some bark. I rode a white steed, on an impossible lark. When I found it was fantasy, I wept in the dark.