Sonnet CXLIX

I miss my childhood, its idleness,
The carefree pondering, the carefree thoughts.
I miss the crafts I made in happiness,
The innocence, absolved of any plots.

I miss the recess, naptime, all the mess
I left each day, not cleaning all the lot.
I miss the love, the care, the endlessness
of purity and joy and youthful awe.

And now it’s school. And lessons, notes, and such.
How did the time fly by? The years? All gone!
Replaced by busyness and rage and greed;
the push for deadlines, days like standard mush -
If only time were still an endless song,
A string of hours fit wtih coloured beads.