by Danny James
I wish would you know the much you miss, and recall those curiously lavish ideas your childhood forgot, when wide with bewilderment fresh eyes would drink and drink, and no part of defeat would taint the nourishment. Estimate where now underfed you stand; how age has so dried the blood and plundered ambition from it, frighted most by the dream that most is needed. All the world for living is exhausted, and sighs a wilder yearning hurrying by an abundant week in baser duties to enjoy a restless Sunday, thus an exhale of precious life makes. I wish would you know the much you miss.