Writing a poem
Is like speaking my mind
Only, it slows me down
Until words I can find
I take my time
And speak my truth
And sooner or later
It comes back to my youth
When I lived freely
Not a care in the world
Played all day on the street
Just jumped and twirled
Until tired I fell
To the ground in a heap
Laid my head down just so
And soon fell asleep
And dreamed of a world
Where I could play
With freedom from strife
And fear pushed away
But life is not like that
When we get old
There are things to accomplish
We can’t be so bold
So some of the dreams
Are put away for a while
And things I must do
I begin to compile
Until all has been done
And my time here is over
Then play, I can do
Until time to changeover