• During the dreadful eight hours
    To stand on the cold ground
    Feeling the freshly cut grass
    Between your toes
    Is every child’s dream

    To see the litter that sticks
    Out
    See the white houses
    And tall lively trees
    Whose leaves are
    An oxymoronic mix of death
    And life
    Is almost every child’s dream

    To close you eyes
    And heighten the senses
    To hear the neighbor dog’s chain
    Rattle with his attempts to escape
    And to hear the wind blow
    pass you ears, and move your hair
    Is every child’s dream

    To feel that oneness with Mother Nature
    To feel like one of her children once more
    To be lost in the contentment
    Is every child’s dream