Poesy of Childhood in Reverie

The shining sun grows pale
My rumbling thoughts seem to gather
the memories of the pulchritudinous days
dipped in the Hippocrene.
The sunshine flash between
My wrinkled jaws and auburn lips.
I reform
another tweedledum and tweedledee.
My pensive mood dances in the amber shadows-
as the daisies flutter in the gust of wind.
Gone are the days!
The drizzle drops in drowsy summer days;
The gentle rush of Zephyrs whistled a lullaby.
The sullen songs of wandering clouds,
The rattling rains,
The aural autumn,
The dazzling dotted dews,
The decayed wreathes of winter,
The buzzing breeze,
The swirling sorrows,
The sweet scented staff of childhood,
once again,
paint the picture upon my shrunken eyes.
I rejoice
in rueful laugh.
The sad, somber, sighing dismay is vanquished.
The dreary shower of drooping anxious hour is replaced.
No more counting of mournful mellowing years,
No more deploying the dwindled days
in idly busy hours;
The dusk now is vermillion.
My straining eyes gaze at the chronicles.
Childhood becomes alive.
Angles whisper,
Fairies fancy,
pranks, planning, plotting-
the patters of little feet-
the skylark’s songs,
the thrush’s thrill,
the chiaroscuro in the crimson rays-
formed the majestic days-
the delightful children’s hour.
O! what sweet memories to recall.
Now what I do-
in my wizened wintry days?
I make the solitary moments blissful
And recreate
the poesy of childhood in reverie.


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