Children believe, such wonderous things,

As children are want to do.

But those wonderous things are made clear to be,

Nothing more than childish dreams.

For what once was will no longer be,

And whats left is no sight to see.

You cannot soar with heavens fairy lights,

You cannot live the dream of midsummer nights.

What Death claims life cannot,

And eternal youth cannot be sought.

Misery is much too real,

As happiness seems so surreal.

And you, among it all,

Say that is life, you live to fall.

Well, live your life of reality,

And I will write of fantasy,

For as all will walk the wandering path,

I will walk the written way.