Phonecalls from the past

When I was a child

Life was good,

And lived in moments


But that was then.

In my days of now,

Too many times,

Life comes calling,


This is how I live.

Was life so good

In those good old days

Of which I speak

So often?

Or was it just just the innocence of youth?

The emotions of confliction,

All too familiar

In my everyday life,

Haunt me,

And hide me from the world.

Where is my world,

The one I dreamed of

Before life took hold,

And trapped me

In a present,

Fixed in the past?

© 2008, Tim (P) Prendeville


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