sitting on his creaky chair
once a masterpiece of his craft
now a relic of past glory and beautiful memories
he hears the music of his childhood once again
loud, clear and unsullied
a reflection of inner joy free of adult worries
unmistakably joyous the sounds
true and unaffected the giggles
the glad sounds
of a child playing in the yard
running after a colourful ball
trying to catch an elusive butterfly
chasing his shadow under the morning sun
and wondering at his anatomy
each day had its attractions
each game its imperfections
for he who had nothing but life
now he sits here pensive and alone
hears the same glad sounds
and tickled laughter
but now only in his heart that yearns
yearns for two opposites
the beginning
and
the end

A child sees his World’s fading light
Making a begrudging retreat
Fickle rebellion usurped by daylight’s fade
The Bastille to petulant ambition, defiance
A youngster’s bravado blocked
An extensive bastion of despair
Until glacier eyes catch sight
An aurora; new possibility
Now standing in the inevitable passage
A frail screen door with edges frayed
Closed one final time through determined hands
As blissful ignorance is abandoned
Where a child once stood
Only a man remains
Erased by a motif; surrounding his profession
Grasping for what is now recession
Expansive worlds of his imagination
Lost and reduced behind lock and key
Now just a figment of who he used to be

You see that moon,
It's ours to conquer.
Through mystic battles,
With creatures undiscovered.

You'll swing the sword,
I'll pull the bow.
And together we'll find,
The stairway of gold.

So armor on,
And look up at the night,
While we may not be together,
We've got the moon in our eyes.