Childhood

It is the home I can't return to,

A place that knew no worry.

A land where the sun never sets,

It is my dearest memory.

It smells of cookies and honey,

And the pages of a new book.

It sounds like a windy evening,

Sneaky spirits and the Bigfoot!

It was where we could dream

Of foreign turfs and treasures unknown.

We saw brave knights, bloodthirsty vampires,

Cursed swords, and blazing thrones!

Written in crayon scribbles,

Forgotten pictures, doodling in a sketchbook.

Made of ringing laughter and innocent friends,

It was my childhood.