It's something O'clock in the morning
and I'm mourning for the childhood
that stole the show
the adolescent glow
riding in the backseat daydream carriage
fascinated by absolutely everything
building lifetimes by afternoon
lost in the swoon of a cornfield sea
green as the trees in Kilkenny
peddles sparking pavement
meant wind in my hair
en route to somewhere
out there past the middle school
a world waiting with wonder
no ticket or toll
just a sunset to beat home
then to bed and a book
one last look
through the night filled window
eyes close
for the late night show