No shapes, no sounds,
No reason to be found
in the midst of laughter
that shrivels up after
remain fragments of wonder.
With child's eyes i search
for impressions of mirth.
None can be found.
As time comes to tell,
expressions of wonder
cease to be discovered
as the eyes of the child -
cloud over.
Left behind are daggers
that scold laughter and
leave behind -
no shapes, no sounds.
Reality bites.
The child's eyes flutter.
No more a wide eyed wonder.
