They are the future; that is the obvious.
They play in the leaves and like to get mischievous.
Now stay here with me and we might get adventurous.
Find a little blunderbuss and find the little kid within us.
A little piddle with a little grown kiddo.
Get wound up about something as little as a window.
Then go on ten about how it smells though.
Hand on a spray can, froze with his eyes closed, gagging as the fumes grow; with no air and closed windows.
Pull the string and fiddle until it unravels.
Full with things that rekindles a feeling in the middle.
Settle in a place where things were simple.
Sprinkled with sugar and spice, that doesn’t always take advice or taste nice on ice.
Let’s go real slow and peel those mementos hiding behind your nose or squoze in your olive like pimentos.
It glows in those who don’t forget the throes of which every child goes.
Come with me and we shall remember what it was like or when we were tender.
Frolic free in the mind of the pretender; despite the times when we were younger or the spell that we were under. When all we did was wonder and everyday was summer, could never be encumbered and our greatest fear was slumber.
Remember when you had a favorite number?
Or painted in your favorite color?
Replaced it with another yet to be discovered; as we danced like a feather and chanced any weather.
How clever, we all must have been; to live long enough to be able to say “back when”!
We dashed and raced to get older and bigger.
I flashed and boldly chased the babysitter.
I was in the center of a litter; and I can be a quitter.
Never was a spitter, but I always was a critter who could be quite bitter.
A child that’s spoiled always toils if they’re not treated as royals.
Good thing I was foiled a few times that I coiled; had chance to get boiled in oil and get my hands soiled.
We all have to remember to go back there.
I declare, it’s only right to be fair; don’t be square or compare, just be there and stay aware.
Don’t lose any more hair over you woes or cares and stare those in their underwear.
Spare the snare of your hardware and glare in the distance and find your own kid scared.
A vision of resistance is not rare.
A decision in an instance of truth or dare in a mind that’s bare.
Worse for wear, the truth’s a bear and a dare is like a road flare; a load to bear, cry for help to everyone, anywhere.
Hide the belt or what you felt.
Mommy and Daddy.
All you have to do is care.
And be there.