Childhood Lament

On the outskirts of Cambridge, there is a small, caring community,
that lies a good distance from the contemptible crime of the city.
 
Outside an old, charming church, a couple of carefree children are playing.
They race their wooden cars across the concrete paving.
 
Their mother sits nearby, knitting a chenille sweater,
considering that summer will soon be over,
and chilly weather, ever nearer.
 
As she contemplates, she recalls a scene from her past,
when she, too, played in the woods,
in the nearby clover-patch.
 
She remembers having spent her days,
under a beautifully covered cerulean sky,
where humble charity was found most anywhere,
and the chains of adulthood - did not yet bind.
 
Reminiscing on memories of yet another time...
a time when she was firmly held by the comfort of love-
When the days were short, the nights were long,
and passion was her only guide;
Carving sweet-nothings into the old mulberry tree
behind the cottage where they first made love.
 
After a while, the woman begins to weep-
the pain is much too consuming.
For childhood-living can never last
and has left her without meaning.