Childhood, 2 feet three, sticky fingers with eyes full of curiosity,
Is the time when one cuddles with teddy bears under the covers when thunder roared like a giantís snore;
When mom eased our troubles by kissing them and daddy was our hero.
Childhood is the toddler that runs around, bottomless, fearless, with no trace of shame. Childhood is stumbling Lego castles, playing house, roaring, stomping, pretending to be Godzilla.
Childhood is no worries, but only, wondering if Little Tommy would share his crayons today,
Or if Mary Jo would play dolls with you or not.
Childhood is stumbling upon a new discovery, a new concealed portal, day by day, brought forth by curiosity.
Childhood is eventually falling like autumn leaves, so gracefully, so fearful of leaving the comfort of the familiarity, of the family tree;
Childhood is like the small bird wanting to fly, scared to leave the nest of conformity but determined to seek flight into the infinity abyss.