The Tenderness In Time

The joy of innocence, blossoming in the beauty of nature back in time when the sweetness of the stream in which we swam in, was like the taste of honey and the little snails we roasted at the fire place had the savoury taste of fried turkey.

Oh! When time was innocent, soft, sweet and unformed yet in nurturation. With mansions and empires built at the speed of imaginations hmm...
My thoughts bid me growing up was a trap after all
But growing up is a choice preffered and growing old is indeed one we allude much wisdom.
Plough not my mind with the ageing times, for the tenderness in time bears the mildness of nature...
God bless childhood.

by Moses Ugochukwu Umekwe

Comments (1)

A lot of mysticism seems to have gone into this poem. So much to think about. Thanks.