I Pray Your Skies are Painted Orange

Do you remember the days
Of crayons and macaroni?
When your only option
Was imagine – create!
When you were not told
To colour within the lines
And were only beginning
To follow the rules
Society had deemed appropriate?

The vivid artistry of purple grass
And orange sky
Of fire engine coloured cows
And blue cats?
Those days when an adventure
Was an epic tale
Of the drive to the store
And the trials that pertained?

But now, I lament
The loss of those cows
The destruction of create
The free spirit corrupted.
And as I now struggle to regain
The individual once contained
I hope, nay, I pray
Your skies are painted orange.