A Melancholy Reverie

A child

Remembers things

In distorted perceptions,

With naive scrutiny;

Oft’ in exaggerated hues

And abstract shapes.

Reality is ceaselessly muddled

By grow-up eyes.

I perceive things now

Not like I did back then,

When I thought my speculations

To be solid expectations;

However, my tomorrow

Has proven to be unfamiliar,

Cruelly misshapen,

And foreign to my

Juvenile perspective.

I yearn to find

That vantage point

I once possessed.

I wish to close my eyes

And be back there again;

To reminisce…

To hope. To crave. To aspire.

But vague dreams haunt

My factual existence,

And I awake from this reverie

And become despondently aware

That I have not.