Treasure Island

bryan wallace


The inner child


Oh where have we gone wrong in life?
Where have we taken the wrong turn?
Why is that we can no longer -
See the world anew?
Why can we no longer - look and see -
Through childlike and innocent eyes?

Should we only add up the productivity of our day
If we feel we've added to our stature -
By adding up the pounds and pence.
Should the ringing till and tingling copper coins
Be all that sets our hearts a-flutter?

Should we not add up the productivity of our day
Not in terms of greasy cheques and gleaming Mercedes,
Semi-detached mansions and 52' TVs
But in terms of what fun we've had?
From jumping in a muddy puddle,
Catching jumping frogs in jampots,
Or writing our name on a misted window pane.

To take simple delight -
In seeing each and everything that there is to see,
Not just what we expect to see, or what we want to see.
To laugh at the puppy-dog chasing his tail,
To see the snow covered fields and roadways -
Not as major inconvenience and worry,
But as a God-given golden oppurtunity -
Snowballs to throw and snowmen to build.

Is it not better - to go jumping and running -
Through the rustling, multi-coloured leaves of autumn
Than to try and sweep and tidy up nature's beauty?
To walk and run - just for fun - not because the doctor said so.
To laugh, and not to be embarrassed -
By our torn trousers and scuffed shoes.

Oh where have we gone wrong in life?
Where have we taken the wrong turn?
Why is that we can no longer,
See the world anew?
To start each day afresh - to see each day,
As opportunity for fun, mischief and devilment,
Not to be encumbered by yesterday's cares and strife.

Somewhere in the dusty attic of our mind
Lurks the inner child we left behind -
When sensible society told us that we should grow stale.
Bring him out, blow away the dust and cobwebs,
That inner child is still in working order -
He just needs nourishment and encouragement.

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2014
Edited: Friday, August 01, 2014

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Topic(s): life

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Comments about this poem (The inner child by bryan wallace )

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  • Arthur Moore (7/31/2014 3:37:00 AM)

    Bryan,
    My sentiments exactly. Sometimes I yearn for the days of my youth when life was carefree and the world was much less complicated. Bicycle rides in summer on roads with little traffic to my favourite spot on the Downs. Wandering around fields of wild flowers on a summer's day catching butterflies before heading home on my bike. Opening the front door at the end of the day and calling out mum, I'm home. (Report) Reply

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