Life

O what a listless shifting and denied child is life
to go from the wild ride of endless Summer days and
the excitement of new souls to meet and chat with noisily
and finding others to do so quietly at the rippling waters edge
to the chafing world of the stunted squinted upsidedown world of the adult
and to have love turn mean for the first time and the heavy wet anger
of shattered and broken and forever torn innocence?

Is it of such value and import and justifies our burdensome and destructive squat upon this Earth?
Have the children never really left The Garden - only that they had forgotten what the garden was to behold, when the beating heart within flowed with violent force of love and passion ran as fiery power in our courses? Where is my friend with outstretched hand holding mine, running amid snatches of bubbling mirth and a cacophony of snorted giggles and loud laughs through The Garden so long ago? Along endless rows of flowers and bushes with warm grass beneath our tender feet in the endless days of of the endless Summer? I miss you. But you have forgotten me.