Youth

We run and play until no end
forget our trouble times
we try to be what we can’t see
and wash away our sins
the greyhound buses trail our paths
and bloody our woeful hearts

the faded stories of sunshine times
brighten not what future holds
mother’s bright and golden shine
remains in thoughts of yester-year
the passion of hearts she gave to me

i wish for days when she was here
and life was picture-perfect
and so i wish…
i was six years old again

*a much simpler time, when my life was perfect.*