We wonder if with ageing comes
a grace and wisdom far beyond
the measures of our childhood brain
which giggled sun, cried tears of rain
within that mind grew trees of gold, and endless mountains - aeons old
it played with faeries clothed in folded leaves with buttons marigold
the curving hills of Xanadu, the place of plenty, known to few
where played a music felt right through
I won't forget that place, will you?
~