Thoughts can't escape us
As long as we can think;
They will travel
Through our head
Like spilled Ink.

Some thoughts
Are neatly filed
And placed in a bin;
The closed compartments,
Are often opened again,
Moving us to life's edge
And o'er the brink...

To see as a child
Can sometimes
Be a good thing,
It hasn't yet had time
To be tainted with tarnish
Or tinselled with glitter
Awash with its garnish...

Nor has it painted truth
With a coat of varnish,
Because a child like vision
Doesn't carry a sting.

We must re-capture again
The child like sense
To view the world
Thru' their eyes
of innocence;
Where each day is begun
Without ego arrogance.

Maybe...more adults
Should become
Little children
Before father time
Turns into childish
Old men....

© Thoughts by Andrea Jeanne Petersen
Written July 22, 2003
Updated October 4th to add dalhia graphics