Coming Around To Nowhere Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Your heart be throbbing around,
Love songs that never were found;
Goodbye to childish thoughts,
With all those unthinkable knots.
That merry go round from here,
And coming around to nowhere;
Whatever I thought I would say,
In each of my puerile's play.

The stars will shine on tomorrow,
Like snow tops of Kilimanjaro;
Our imagination will never stop,
Though different things it'll swoop.
We will search and find its town,
Let its wall go tumbling down;
The fairytales come still along,
In stories and every new song.

Hope will leave nothing undone,
Endless interpretations in the spun;
We' will mature in years and skills,
But always have our youthful thrills.
If young in our soul we will still be,
And hold to expectations and its glee;
Have the summer in heart and mind,
Never leave the young years behind.