In Search of a Lost Childhood 

When was it I became aware
That childhood is a myth?
Somewhere between the breast and days
Of alcoholic bliss,
The happy child of golden curls,
Robbed of security,
Was forced to age beyond her years--
A false maturity.

She shed her dreams and fantasies,
Fled deep within herself;
She waits there still mid childhood toys
Placed high upon the shelf.
The sounds of marital discord
Still echo in her ears;
Rejection, loneliness, and pain
Still haunt her through the years.

The child grew up, too soon, too soon,
Her soul is lost in time;
Alone she spends her endless days
Still searching for some sign
Of the childhood that she left behind
So very long ago,
And tho’ the search is futile,
There’s nowhere else to go.

For tho’ she’s grown and moved away,
With children of her own,
Her heart still dwells in childhood’s house,
Tho’ it dwells there all alone.
She’ll never end her lonely search, for,
No matter where they roam,
The unhappy, unloved children are
The last ones to leave “home.” 

~ Linda E. Newman ~
©used with permission
Read more of her poetry Here.




Midi "Prayer Song2"
 Soul Keeper