Of Child-Like Fancies Poem by Bobbie Othigo

Woe unto those that too old grow,
Whose eyes fail to glow,
Fire of their hearts has out been blown,
In this manner
Let me not grow old,
Heart of polished gold,
Is what my chest will hold,
Child-like soul
Never to be sold,
However thorny the years unfold.
Allow me soar,
With child-like fancies within,
Not close to ground low,
High, high in airs thin,
Maybe the shell will mightily crease,
But the fruit will for-ever be fresh,
Love and laughter be my grease,
Child-like mirth lives in the core of my flesh,
In wisdom and courage grow old
As with the years, in heart store,
Your child-like fancies,
Loves you’d never dream to lose.

(29-2-2012)