Make Believe

Although we must all grow up, I fear that most of us have grown up too much. One of the things we seem to cast aside far to quickly is our imaginations. Let us not be too old, too mature, too grown up to look at the world around us, from time to time, with the eyes of a child. As long as we have a firm grip on reality, perhaps we need to squint once in while and make believe just a little. If we can see things a little differently, we might discover a perspective which could improve our outlook on the world we live in.

Make Believe
Imaginations, dulled by years
No longer can conceive
What once, in youth, we knew so well
The art of make believe
What once we called a sailing ship
A race car or a train
Is now an empty cardboard box
A carton, brown and plain
The basement was the dungeon
And the attic was a tower
The back yard, our medieval realm
Each day our finest hour
Worn out socks were puppets
And a penny, pirate gold
We could travel to the future
Or the long gone days of old
Every boy could be a cowboy
Every girl a princess fair
We made the living room a swamp
And grandma was a bear
But, one by one, we all grew up
And left sweet youth behind
Forsaking simple joys we knew
For what seemed more refined
And now, with childhood long past
We've grown far too mature
And lost the gift of youthful minds
We make believe no more
By Frank Carpenter ©