Childhood Bliss
The childhood bliss of being young.
Not caring what others thought,
Exploring forests, fields, anywhere you wanted
The amazing power of your imagination,
Being able to have fun no matter what,
Making friends no matter where,
Just the happy blissful feeling that was there.
But all that is good must come to an end.
The places get torn down,
The people drift away,
And suddenly that childhood bliss,
Is gone.
By Étáin Butler
Editor's Note
Your approach to the writing of this poem, impresses me. The poem’s strength is its simplicity. The language is everyday and expresses each thought clearly. It is true about its subject, the joy of being young, and its sudden almost unexpected departure.
Very well done. And good wishes for your future writing.