Looking at the world
Through the eyes of a 
Child.

Without the jaded 
Filters, or the
Gauze of cynicism

Easily hurt,
Easily confused,
But never losing

Touch with that
Child within,

The child that
Yelped with glee

On Christmas
Morning at the
Bounty of presents

At his feet.

Each day an
Exciting adventure
Unraveling before

His eyes

Unrolling like a
Parchment scroll

Containing glyphs
And symbols that

Form a magical
Spell of wonder.

I will never lose
Touch with the
Boy inside.

I will never see the
World with
The jaded filters

And cynical gauze
Of so-called
Maturity

Growing up is 
Vastly over-rated.

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