Come Fall On Me Sweet Breath Of Pastures Gone
And Lift My Leaden Heart Beyond This Mire
Send Forth A Whispered Dream, To Ride Upon
And Whitewash All The Things Of Which We Tire
Though Cartoonesque, Your Images Appear
No Childish Flavours Languish In Thy Taste
Take All These Adult Shackles Of Which We-‘re
Inclined To Find The Source Of All Our Waste
I Beg You Never Bring Back All That-‘s True
And Shatter Any Lingering Belief
The Snippets, Cherry-Picked Will Have To Do
Avoiding Any Remnants Of Past Grief
This Formulaic Recall Smacks Of Greed
Perhaps The Parts We Hide Away
Are What We Truly Need.