Oh, youth! 

You spellbound me  

with your honeyed breasts 

and cast me into clouds of milky joy. 

 

It’s been forever since I felt 

the long grasses tinkling my bare ankles 

as I run in fields of summer sunsets. 

 

I remember the golden softness of air 

and simpleness of life,  

when the skies were overflowing 

with the merriment of our dreams. 

 

I still hold dear the delicate scent of blue cornflowers 

and red poppies in my hair; 

the ambrosial taste of wild strawberries 

on my fingers. 

 

I recall the rapeseed fields, way back in the scenery. 

They felt seemingly untouchable 

like a holy halo only to be seen and worshipped. 

 

Such freedom nested our hearts, 

no fear of tomorrow could smother the belly laughs 

of our mockery of serious adults. 

 

Little did we know they would be us someday. 

Bleak.  

Hollow.  

Empty-eyed critters swarming into  

soul-crushing desks of imminent annihilation. 

 

Wake up, you silly mush! 

 

The true purpose of life  

is not to be found in concrete caskets 

or plastic objects 

or the dreadful thirst for stacks 

of diligently coloured pieces of paper.  

 

Remember who you are! 

 

The velvety rapture of childhood 

is the key to true harmony. 

 

Find it.  

Heal it.  

Cherish it.  

 

Immerse yourself in its bountiful treasures 

and, please,  

don’t forget how amazing you are!