Remember

And what becomes of the child
who ran across meadows in delight,
chasing beams of a falling sun
in afternoon games
as clouds played hide and seek
with the light that rationed herself
on cold Northern days?
Where is the child
who found rainbows at the tail of
poppies who stood tall in small gardens,
tilled by weary hands
who only longed to find the yellow brick road
and fall into the depths
of a place remembered from a dream?
Where is the child who dreamt deeply
of wild horses and days of freedom,
where words did not sting
and hands could not harm,
and the coming of a tomorrow
was just another day,
not a day to live for.
Where is the soul
of the silent one who watches,
as it all crashed down
like falling stars,
the loss of what it was that seemed
the most important of it all,
but in the end was nothing more
than useless ideals,
when hands were held open
and abundance seemed to be so hard to grasp,
the arms that held tight
through the simplicity of love
given so freely
and for no other reason
than that was all to give,
he found he had all that was ever needed,
and belief filled the hole
where hollow echoes had aimlessly reverberated
and the beating of the heart
crashed across the universe,
the beams fell in glory,
coming across in a beauty unseen before~
for it was all they knew
and the dreams that were perched
on the rough edges of stone walls
sat silently waiting
for the touch of a child
to release them to all.

A stream of conscious post, took the image and just rambled from there. Not sure what it all means, perhaps you’ll find something of use in a poets febrile writing.