Children, pure and untouched
Live in their imagination
Tasting all that surrounds them
Drinking of discovery

Too soon the rain of hubris
Dampens the innocence
Censors the unbridled joy
Appends their childhood

Youth slips away
Surrendered, forfeited
Retreating into yesterday
Fading into reality

Life thrust upon them 
What do they see?
Visions of who they were
History replayed

About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Childhood, Free Verse, Life, Poetry, Reflection, Uncategorized, Youth and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Cycles

  1. LadyBlueRose's Thoughts Into Words says:

    You have scripted the rhythm and rhymes of life beautifully
    Take Care…You Matter…

  2. Paul says:

    I see this daily with the grand daughters, so well said. Thanks

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