How often have i thought of a child’s innocent laughter;
In my dreams i saw them like brooks
gurgling against stone and wind,
where they stay one fleeting moment
before they glide hastily away.
I thought how well the world could be
when i shall become a child once more
in my balloon of tin soldiers and one-eyed rubber dolls.
How a child could smile without sadness.
While i, chained and spent in an adult’s aging world
ride on winged hopes of cheerful tomorrows.
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