I am such a child, green and unproud,
Wanting to lie here and watch clouds;
See them become huge people’s faces
And traces form into beaches and streams,
Living all sorts of happy waking dreams
In those puffy forests above my eyes.
The skies talk to me of love and cries
That I should be happy here and stay
Not run away, postpone for another day
Decisions and ambitions and ideas
To revel instead in what a joy this is;
This Eden, this fairyland, this heaven.
I am not selfish in my desire, this fire,
That joyhood; that girlhood and boyhood
Will remain as strong, and as soothing
Smoothing down the ruffles of time.
It can’t be a punishable adult crime
That we drift away, on some days
And ignore the tooting of horns.
They weren’t there when we were born.
There were no parking tickets for us
The school sent the big yellow bus
We didn’t have to wait on the street
Rain and snow on our heads and feet.
To me, it is a gift a wonder and a treat
That we can give up our office seat
And retreat to some park or sweet plain
And once again go back to when this,
Life as sky and earth, again gives birth
To contentment and security for each
And teaches that it’s not beyond reach.
We can return to good places in our soul.
That should be our own permanent goal.
We can see the beauty of the country
In our own county or our own village
And celebrate the majesty of the image
Of being under the clouds, carefree
To make them what we want them to be.
