I remember the old books,
The pictures, the funny lines
There was so much they had to say
Much of it was easy, yet hard to understand
What is real?
How does something become ‘real?
what is important in life?
Seems that love is the truth of the books
Reading the words of Jesus
A great story teller,
Perhaps they illustrate stories he once told
Yet grown men pushed children aside to hear stories
So much has changed
These days, there seems no room for simple stories
No room for an idyllic world where it is better to be loved than feared
Machiavelli has replaced the lessons of our youth
The mind goes to adulthood
Playing games, talking, reading stories yet again
I see that not all the old stories have been abandoned
Some remember the lessons of their youth
Sanity is so much easier when it is shared
When was the meaning of life put away as a childish thing?