Dreaming of great escapes

Watching rainbows, wondering where they go;

making footprints in the early morning snow,

that melts away beneath the sun's pale call,

leaving no trace, no trace at all.

Counted moments, heartbeats slipping by,

time measured by the stars on high; 

that like each little child must fall, 

leaving no trace, no trace at all.

Yet still for now, the children play,

so happy in their blissful ways;

sailing boats and running races,

slip't of humdrum adult traces,

that come the day will quietly steal

the magic from a world beyond

the office and the factory floor;

And all the laughter in the world is theirs,

they have no burdens, no deep cares,

no apron strings, nor wage to earn,
or moments lost, forever yearned; 

instead, barefoot they dance 

beneath the fleeting sun,

unmindful that such sweet 

escape will all too soon be done.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

I have tried all through my life to hang on to my childhood...but I have been kidding myself...This is quite brilliant, through the ages...down the generations nothing has changed. It is only as a mature adult that you see the BIG picture and it is a wonderful thing to behold

[Tony Jordan]

This brought back some of that forgotten youth Beccy. Like a spell weaved expertly.
The children no not the magic they posses until it has moved on.
Excellent writing!

[Tom]

Yes, those oh so delightfully carefree endless days when we played in our idyllic wonderlands where time had no measure !

Beautifully scribed with captivating imagery and near perfect rhythm and flow !!

[alanwgraham]

This is great writing. Your words are well chosen and communicate directly and clearly which I believe is the purpose of writing. I'm interested in whether you intended this as a metaphor for humanities blissful ignorance of our impending fate.
Well done again.
Alan

[Tate Morgan]

Ah beautiful. To be a child again. I would give all for that chance again.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

innocence leaves, with no clues left behind, no trace of what was...just like snow melting, rainbows leaving...and will our lives be the same way? or will we leave a trace? our writing might be the rainbow that does not disappear.

[Woody]

what a delightful poem this is, Beccy!!! such a sweet write so masterfully penned, as usual.
damn, I find nothing else to say, except maybe echoing Terpsichore.

[Terpsichore]

Love the way you take the reader back to a more innocent, carefree time. You write so beautifully Beccy; the flow of words seems effortless, (though I imagine great thought goes into every line,) and every poem of yours I read is a delight to both the mind and the eye.

You have a true gift.

T

[R J Askew]

This has a bitter sweet feel to it. The great escape is a time of great delight. But then to think that, as adults, we have already lived through it is a sadness. Knowledge can be a cruel thing. But then reading your poem also reminds us that we were in that state of happy innocence once and, if we are lucky, can still find the child deep within ourselves. Perhaps there is something to be said for living childishly occasionally.