Through Childish Eyes Poem by Amy rhian Oleary

Waiting in the doorway as she so softly whispers,
i'll exp; ain to you when your older dear,
now have you seen your sister?

walking down my childhood street,
things just havn't changed,
Even through now mature eyes,
i see great memories around, all pictures framed,

Evidence of tree top swings,
still knotted on the branch,
embeded in the thick old bark,
are my initials followed by a nice big heart.

Walking past the 'great big stones',
still begging to be climbed,
all edged and textured weathered holes,
once big enough to hide behind,

now i sit upon the stone,
my legs swing in and out,
as i remember this was once my throne, to banish all thats bad,
the bushes are trimmed and the fence is all fixed,
the grass still kept well groomed,

i think back to the question i had once asked my mother,
and why she never could answer,
her life so cruel instead of so beautiful,
my mother she never told a lie,
this pretty sweet world and life wherever you look,
mam, why do we all have to die?