She is locked in time, with no way out.
She must go forward, for she can't turn about.
Her childhood lies behind her, she knows not what lies before.
The future is the dark unknown,
The past a tight closed door.
Oh why must children all grow old?
Why can't they stay? But time unfolds.
In the moments of childhood dreams,
The future, faraway, it seems.
And yet at last, they've up and grown;
The world called, and they left home.
But wait! Look there! Behold!
For deep inside, lies the child of old.
The fancies that they held so dear,
Are all locked up, and safe in here.
Behind the pride, the stoicism, the shame,
There lies the child, still fresh, still the same.
All the hopes, the dreams, the worries, the cares,
Childhood is for those who find it there.
Painters, singers, and those who rhyme,
Did not grow old,
Childhood was found in time.