I’m no longer
Allowed to dream
As the children did
Before the war
Cursed them with age and care

Firework nights and
Midsummer hammocks
Swaying in a sultry breeze
Have all been spent
On days doled out
To pilgrims who came
Before me

Swift now falls the hammer stroke
Too soon is spent the day;
Dreams burst forth, but wither soon,
That golden were,
But cannot not stay.