Childhood, a finger tip away, to jump and laugh, dream and play. I can almost touch it, yet today, never further, or more astray.
Long summer days, they never ended,
games came so easy, imagined, pretended.
This fortunate generation, no innocence lost, drenched in mud and fire, grateful for the youth, far from the lethal mire.
I thank you deeply, selfless and valiant, those who came before, and opened up for us, cooperations door.
The grass is green, and I am free. Guilty, I can’t help but feel, for being sad at the falling leaves, it’s weakness of my will.
All things which once we’re simple joys,
so naively received, freedom from responsibilities, faintly dared conceived.
Of bliss, of purity, best left for the children of the time. My duty is to prolong and preserve the peace, I enjoyed as a paradigm.
Original poem by © Darius the Mate
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