Holding hands with the sun
and all of these infant flames that
I love.
But don't let me wander off and wonder why we're all the same.
With an opening of the eyes of the child inside
our conscience will go where we fear the most.
Yet stuttering none but shouting loud,
a rowdy multi-colored crowd,
we sing, we dance and romp around.
With love we hug this newfound sound.
And play we may, but fun we must,
for yesterday's tomorrow is time for us.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
Holding hands with the sun
and all of these infant flames that
I love.
But don't let me wander off and wonder why we're all the same.
With an opening of the eyes of the child inside
our conscience will go where we fear the most.
Yet stuttering none but shouting loud,
a rowdy multi-colored crowd,
we sing, we dance and romp around.
With love we hug this newfound sound.
And play we may, but fun we must,
for yesterday's tomorrow is time for us.
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