GROWING PAINS
When I was a rosy, wide-eyed child
And the world was new to me
I tried to explore it with searching eyes
That knew no secrecy.
And I came one day, in my wanderings,
On a curtain of green and gold
With the deepest colors reflected in
Each mysterious fold.
And I tried to break through it, and tried to go ’round
To pluck at the colors that shone,
But as I reached toward it, it vanished away.
And I cried in the forest, alone.
Seven years passed, e’er I saw it again,
All proud in my new-found teens ...
But I passed by the gate with a haughty glance,
And I scoffed at its beckoning greens.
Seven years more, and I find it again,
In my own private fairy wood.
Its shimmering colors, and sun-flecked hues
Call me, as naught else could.
The gates are translucent. There, tinted with rose,
Is the sapphire blue of a cloudless day ...
And I know there are reaped the harvests of love,
And I know there the children of happiness play.
But I know that for me the gate is shut ...
And I feel that I trespass on hallowed ground,
So I fix my eyes on the stones below,
And I follow the lone path, homeward bound.