Childhood, Return to Me

Why were we so hurried? What drove that compelling urge to flee from infancy and plunge into the chaos of maturity? Fools, we are assuredly fools; to flee from the simplicity of park swings and imaginary friends. To leave behind our mountains of toys and libraries coloring books. Return to me, those endless afternoons of skipping hop-scotch and catching fire flies. Regress with me to those days of recess and nap time, in a world where Mommy and Daddy knew everything and McDonald's was God's manna from heaven. Set me atop my old bicycle seat and I would have been your guide to an adventure that no maturated mind could have fathomed. Place between the chains of any lonely park swing and I could have showed you how to stretch your wings and fly. I stand, now though, as a witness to that which lies beyond the threshold we once dared to venture. Heartbreak and emptiness inevitably accompany age and time. These weary bones testify to the wear and tear of the road less traveled; a road rigged with traps and thieves. Do not fear, though, in those darkest hours, for we are not really fools as long as we keep in our company the Spirit of joy and insatiable peace. Yet still, I long for the days of simplistic childhood. Childhood, return to me for I long to lavish in the warmth of your angel rays.