when we were growing up / we spent hours in the sunlight / speaking to trees / crafting dryad songs to carve into the old wood of youth / we would skip into the forest / discussing our afternoons with fairies / and wading in the streams / sirens nipping at our feet / we would weave wildflowers around our hips and ankles / and paint sunlit colors onto our cheeks / we would create amazing stories / of pirates and stars and lands far away / we would run off into the night and find our own adventures / we were so in love with the world.
now I see children / and their feet are not trembling with anticipation / as ours once were / instead / they are planted firmly into reality / taking pills to make them happy / and they bind icy fact onto their foreheads.
the magic is all gone.
