In the cradle of dawn where the shadows play
A child awakes to the world's bright array
With laugh like ripples on a sun-kissed stream
Imagination unfolds like a vibrant dream

Tiny hands grasp at the stars in the sky
Each moment an adventure as days' flurry by
With nature as canvas, they paint with delight
In a kingdom of wonder, all senses take flight

Then the youth comes a calling, a tornado in bloom
With eyes full of fire and a heart like a plume
Chasing the sunsets on roads made of hope
Struggling with shadows, learning to cope

It's the thrill of first love, the ache of goodbyes
The forging of dreams beneath changing skies
With leagues to explore and the world on their chest
In the chaos of passions, they long for the rest

And then to adulthood where the seasons intertwine
With roots that run deep and ambitions that shine
Responsibilities weigh like a cloak on the soul
As we balance our dreams with the weight of our goal

The laughter of children, the warmth of a home
In the threads of life, we are never alone
Through trials and triumphs, in joy and in strife
We knit a rich curtain, this beautiful life

Each phase flows like water, a river divine
Carving paths through the mountains, leaving old-age design
From the innocence of youth to wisdom's embrace
Life's ever-changing dance is a timeless grace

So here's to the journey with each turn of age
From child to adulthood, we all share the stage
In the heart of existence, phase by phase
We find the pure magic in life's winding maze

I once laid in my bed content
With mama’s prayers tucked in.
Listening to trains far off across
River trestles on rails stretched
To places I could only dream of.

Beginner’s luck the magic strong.
Reality and dreams synonymous.
Early the seeds of wanderlust
Planted.

Talents forged of
Cardboard boxes and
Old trunks in the attic
And of games with friends
In woods and streets.

Old Mr. Robling’s eyes looked
Beyond . . .
Child’s play would end
Someday.

That day eventually came in
Linear time
But much longer to this
Wandering mind
That thought beyond the grade
School desk when my adolescent
Peer’s noses were buried deep.

Wander and travel lust left this boy
Rootless and restless when time
Came to stop chasing mirages
Of greener pastures.

He then looked up and saw
His little one’s grown up
With a somewhat similar
Bittersweet taste of chasing
Elusive islands of emerald green
Seen as lush vivid images
On their built-in larger-than-life
Mental GPS screens
Programmed to ****** the
Wanderer into the delusion that
They can take extended or even
Permanent excursions far from

The
Great
Gray
Banal
Sea.

Not very long ago this ageless
Boy was forced into settling for
Stark reality.
But he is slowly growing a bit
More comfortable in his own skin.

The grass is still a bit green
But parts are a bit dry
Patchy and crabgrass ridden.

At least it fashionably matches
His soul . . .
Poetic justice for trading
Most of your life for
The elusive
Obvious.

I still cling tight to my childhood  
In my own non-linear time of
One hundred years ago

But far too young in linear time
To be residing in
A tired body
Which many define age as
Value was once
Measured by quality not
Quantity

And as those running the track
And roaming free over
Thousands of acres
Of wide-open
Plains as opposed to those
Put out to pasture or waiting
In line

At
The
Glue
Factory