WONDER
I wonder at the wonder of this child,
who plays with bubbles all around,
wondering where they came from,
when the source is just at hand.
I wonder if we were just the same ,
in that age of innocence,
when pebbles were more precious than stones,
when sketches more precious than notes.
In that age it seems
were inherent all the joys of life.
When love was not conditional,
When we were away from toils of life.
