Who’s awake instead of sleeping
Hear’s the click of old father time?
Who is listening to rain that’s falling
And cool, dark night, at peace sublime?
Who is reaching for dreams aflight,
Outstretched fingers pass through mist
As though their wishes can’t quite form
And all desires an imagined tryst?
I can hear you call my name
Though small your voice now may seem
A child still there though I am grown
And I remember all those hopes and dreams.
It is these things, these memories
That make me toss and turn at night.
Without my childlike naivety
Became a jaded fancy flight.