Friday, April 25, 2008
The Whim It Forever Has Left Me
The whim it forever has left me I recall when I was a boy
I never found it any bother with my hands raised for to touch the sky
And now that I am decades older and my hair with age is silver gray
The sky that I touched as a young one from me seems millions of sky miles away.
I have lost the great gift of fancy that I had in my boyhood of life
When the power to imagine things of wonder in my youthful memory was rife
I cannot touch the sky nowadays even on days when the fog mists are low
So much for life's experiences and knowledge the boy in me left me ages ago.
When I was a boy in the fifties an old one the years had left gray
She told me that pigs could see the wind and I believed every word she did say
She was fuelling my imagination if someone told me such things today
I would wonder about their mental stability and feel he or she should be locked away.
The whim it forever has left me and it I will never regain
And the power to make the impossible seem real I cannot recapture again
I could touch the sky in the fifties on days foggy and overcast
But as I aged the sky from me grew further and I cannot go back to the past.