He wonders in an ascending thunder.
He roams in an aspiring trail,
which excites without fail.
He please's like a contagious disease.
Do you love me, do you hate me?
The little boy used to ask.
A smile in his eyes,
used to confuse
and bemuse.
Some it would anger,
and to some,
it would intrigue.
But,
he knew,
it was only a smile.
Mischief was his game,
adventure his name.
Love in his heart,
to the end from the start.
Till death to him part.
Memories from childhood, where innocence was, and still could be.