An essential event of eternal youth, Of beauty and love and the search for truth. Carresses of hours passing over the soul In seeking the moment to reach out for a goal. In daylights midsweep of the delicate sky, The azure illusions playing on the eye For the games of a childhood are excused, At this moment never again to be used. Longing for age to come rushing in And lead you onward to adulthoods begin. But craving the neverending morning of life And wishing an afternoon free of strife. In the passing of seasons you see on ahead Guidance in the form of those who have sped Through mornings adventures, grandly intent On becoming adults withut having spent Those last precious moments preparing the way For the everlasting hours that remain in the day. Lovers and friends reach out for your hand To take you to the fields of the less wild land. But you hold onto the morning, its last sweeping rays Of sunlight at the break of your life's midday. But take there a flower, a sweet smell from youth And keep it inside you, this moment of truth. Remember the uncut pastures of every game Where you learned why childhood has its name. Never grow up from the young person you are. Become an adult but never leave youth behind too far. The passing hours of the day hold this same common bound: The same person is there at the morning, the noon and beyond.