ONLY THE CHILDREN CAN MAKE ME FEEL HAPPY

As a happy-go-lucky lad I tasted the breath of life.
I sprang like a fawn over the fields devoid of strife.
Mother gave me many siblings and I was overjoyed
as from the stars came tumbling girls and boys.
Since my earlier days their angelic rapport
encouraged my endeavors to be adored.
Only the children can make me feel happy
I want to be their beloved grand pappy.
Singing my melodies into their gentle souls
to shelter them from worries and to console.
Listening to their joyful screams from the meadow
picking a bouquet of dandelions so yellow.
Comforting their fears and calming their anxieties
as they assume the responsibility of all society.
Their pure enthusiasm like Rover at the door
lightens up the atmosphere like a beacon offshore.
Exhibiting an example of relaxation and pose
Giving them strength to formulate and propose
their unblemished genius with finesse and propriety.
Filled with fantasy with an abundant variety
Endlessly humorous with the wit of a jester
with every movement and a tender gesture.
We are often surprised the respect they show
Glancing upward for the guidance we bestow.
Though moments can be difficult they do inspire
to uplift our spirits and rediscover desire.
Through thick and thin they forge their course
Never second guessing to ward off remorse
They wish to be noticed, conscientiously proud
Listen to their voices from within the crowd
Endow yourself with peace and a breath of air
Each child of wonder does inherently care
to sharpen awareness and build a new hope
to enlarge our perspective and deepen our scope.
The pains that we carry to bleed and suffer
unveil a mystery we will someday uncover.
Salvaging our juvenile days from our memory
will save us from boredom and give new energy.
To witness the reenacting of the days of yore
brings an archaic inheritance from the troubadour.
Painting their instincts carefully on canvas
brings my heart to see the brilliance of new chances.
The human race’s ability has been sadly ignored
transporting reveries from pasts heretofore.
The necessity of introspection, for the lack of identity
has sent us on a rat race in search of good and plenty.
Easing the directionless zealous form of tension
for the conscious of the youth is held in detention.
With a tympani rolling in the great explosion
like a tidal wave from our sickened oceans
we awaken the ecological responsive eye
to heed to the bellowing of a youngster’s cry.
Mother Earth will revolt against the permanent war
while the children regain Nature it’s birth to restore.
Only the children can shape the terrestrial future
with their intangibility irreproachably shrewder.
Only the children can make me feel happy
I want to be their beloved grand pappy.
Singing my melodies into their gentle souls
to shelter them from worries and to console.