A translucent shadow, white and pale.
Glimmers near the lake in the mighty gale.
It beckons me to follow into its realms of memories,
Its eyes beseech questions, by the weeping leaves of trees.
It shivers and it shudders, going berserk with agony,
As it starts to implore the tale of its journey.
As it starts to implore the tale of its journey.
It takes me to a kid dreaming by the rusted window.
Watching the drops of rain falling dark and slow.
I stood there watching the child and his vision,
I stood there watching as his hopes flew to the Sun.
I stood there hypnotized by its sheer beauty.
I stood there spellbound, smiling at his unscarred fantasy.
I stood there gazing blankly at his unflinching perseverance.
I stood there immersed, admiring the magnificence.
Then it suddenly hits me like a bolt of thunderous lightning.
Lurching me out of my reverie, the reality it brings.
The little boy smiles and we wave each other a somber goodbye.
Boarding the train, he departs forever with tears in his eyes.
I stand there forlorn, for those days that I miss,
As the ghost of my inner child fades away into its nemesis..
I do get what you want to give. I even remember doing the same. Sitting on the window, watching the rain droplets trickle down and forming dreams. But the difference is I still do it sometimes.
ReplyDeleteWell yes, that was the idea behind the whole thing. Some still have that child hidden inside them, while the others get such glimpses of childhood in the form of pale shadows.
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