Childhood

With the frigid winter breeze,
Comes the tide of childhood wheeze.
Born to never die as a darting flicker,
As some untold fable, childhood lingers
In the distant inwards of memories, and folks
To touch every corner, every recess of the soul.
Touch this soul with the season’s greetings,
Call upon this life with the warmth of feelings,
Bless all that come now and then as such figure
With every beauty of heart—with love, curiosity and power.

Copyright: Welkin Siskin