Not a worry on my mind
Not a frown of any kind
Didn’t know then what was pain
I want to be a child again.
Books, toys, games, many-a-friend
That was till where the world would extend
Tantrums, yes, but not a single complain
I want to be a child again.
I knew I was different
Different – no idea what it meant.
Different is now a headache, a strain
I want to be a child again.
It’s funny how we always wanted to grow up
Adults, it seems, were doing an impressive cover-up
Or it was just our rose-coloured glasses then
I want to be a child again.
As they say - Growing up is a trap. Loved the poem. Wish I have a time machine and can travel back to those good-old-carefree days.
ReplyDeleteOh I love those first four lines!
ReplyDelete