GROWING PAINS

When I was a rosy, wide-eyed child And the world was new to me I tried to explore it with searching eyes That knew no secrecy. And I came one day, in my wanderings, On a curtain of green and gold With the deepest colors reflected in Each mysterious fold. And I tried to break through it, and tried to go ’round To pluck at the colors that shone, But as I reached toward it, it vanished away. And I cried in the forest, alone. Seven years passed, e’er I saw it again, All proud in my new-found teens ... But I passed by the gate with a haughty glance, And I scoffed at its beckoning greens. Seven years more, and I find it again, In my own private fairy wood. Its shimmering colors, and sun-flecked hues Call me, as naught else could. The gates are translucent. There, tinted with rose, Is the sapphire blue of a cloudless day ... And I know there are reaped the harvests of love, And I know there the children of happiness play. But I know that for me the gate is shut ... And I feel that I trespass on hallowed ground, So I fix my eyes on the stones below, And I follow the lone path, homeward bound.