16 February 2009

Pathos of the Inner Child

I could go and run in a field of green
Or climb an ancient tree.
Find life beneath a muddy rock
Or guppies in a stream.
I could fly a kite, or build a fort,
With soldiers made of sticks,
I could sing out loud of grasshoppers
While to the park I skip.
But no, I seek the darkened corners
Of my little house
With my wireless keyboard,
And my wireless little mouse......

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