When did we change,
from throwing paper planes,
And driving wooden trains,
to this.
And when did we grow,
From angels in snow,
Lots of this we didn't know,
To this.
Can you put your finger on the day,
when we never agian did play,
our childhood wasted away,
To this.
And when did we get taller,
Our dreams get smaller,
So now the only thing left in life,
Is this.
YOU ARE READING
Words Unspoken
PoetryThere is a community of the spirit. Join it, and feel the delight of walking in the noisy street, and being the noise. Drink all your passion, and be a disgrace. Close both eyes to see with the other eye. Open your hands, if you want to be...
