Gurgle, the baby’s passion squiggles
And wriggles with excitement
As my ageing fresh already crinkles.
Inching and stretching
The years get less refreshing,
Fleshing out my inner spirit
In a fitting tantrum of slipping time.
Mine.
Why isn’t the world wide mine yet?
These baby blue’s dreams
Careful rhymes
No fruition of dreams -
Just a hard aching of time.
The conditioning of the cynical
Society-beaten "truths"
All the optimism of my psyche
Lost to my short-lived youth.
The big bad world out there
Snipes in harsh aggression.
There’s no room for lullaby
Just a leary recession...
No transgression to maturity
Just this hardened world view.
We forgot how to feel light
To see life as brand new.
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