The Violet Horse
To be a creative child once more
dreaming of Rose the bright violet horse
to skip and play, counting only to four
hopscotching your way through life’s course.
Rose with her brilliant rainbow-hued mane
the finest hair glistening in golden sun
with sparkling prisms prancing in blued rain
daring you to chase and off you would run.
Ah, to be free and never have to toil again
facing each day with a child’s simple view
giggling and laughing, dancing in the rain
singing silly songs of how pigs once flew.
And though we all must grow up and age
and face the harsh realities of adult life
we should all remember to pull a page
from the book of youth that is free of strife.