For Simplicity’s Sake
Eyes open after sleep and out of them I peep.
Through orange curtains does sunshine glare, another day of ‘do or dare’.
Saturday, no homework’s drone, just the endless fun of play.
Sausaged toast I gobble down, TV shows in dressing gown.
Knock at door. Respectful say. Is James coming out to play?
Dressed in seconds, across the floor and swiftly racing out the door.
Cowboys and Injuns, cops and robbers, toy guns and mummy’s buns.
Bang bang you’re dead. I reel and fall upon the garden spread.
Those days are gone. Of course they are. Nothing else within my power.
I ponder deep and wish I could those memories keep more than my despair.
The world so black; the cuts so deep; every day I weep.
Why so cruel should a world be where all sown seeds we reap?
No brightly coloured curtains, low and lost in thought.
When twenty I wondered long how my life would be at fifty.
The answer echoes in my ears even now in tears.
However many dots the dice we throw, we only ever grow.
As time has passed I realise there is something to be grasped
The simplicity of life remains the same, no stains of past to fear.
These days no book, through windows look, I watch the petals bloom.
My garden filled with apple trees and bees, no more the need for gloom.
For my pond I buy a fish and watch its tail with every swish.
The sky I view, not always cloud, rather sun that shines and morning dew.
No more a search for complex thought; no more an end in nought.
All we need, awaiting answer, in front of us a simple world no plaster.
A child I was, an adult come, all between but bubble-gum.
Today the world has brightened and now I feel enlightened.
Life is for the living and the dead is for the dead.
What was the present is now the past in just one second spent.
However much benighted we seek out places we once lived excited.
There is as much mischief there we would also have to share.
In future days, hope we must retain, the endless lure of happiness again.
But today my friend, let’s enjoy in all our ventures every minute
To the fullest of their erstwhile childlike limit.
© 2013 James Hanna-Magill