When everything's a two tone type
and the lot seems some what wrong.
When the place you wake isn't
the one you put to rest
and the silence feels less lapsey
and more like an unsung song.
Where your friends are also foes
and your foes your honest friends.
When the morning is your night
and the day drifts past your shore.
When your hair is long and silky
but streets are splitting by the ends.
When the puddles stop reflecting
and just show you what they'd like
and remembering the happy things
feels less of petal and more of spike.
When you're reading hours every night
but only learning to lose your time.
And the typical "How'd you do?"
is sounding more like its own nursery rhyme.
When each thing is sort of senseless
but you're really just trying to learn
so you take hold of the granted top hat
and adorn your neighbors tree.
And you try a little harder
to see the who you're meant to be.
And a child becomes
a household mystery
with no descendant's
just a legacy to live on.
The original Carmen Sandiego.
We had better luck spotting Waldo
or guessing Miss. Blossoms face.
But she was real
just another kid
we grew up knowing
the world had lived without.
Where in the world did Anastasia go?
Did everyone look?
Does anyone know?
Just a child, just a girl
Did she learn? Did she grow?
There once was an action
that created a sound
and in essence of being
was something somewhat profound.
And maybe it happened
before we became
Or perhaps it appeared
with the first to have name.
But whatever the purpose
or meaning it had
it was followed by a thing
the most gay and most glad.
A knowledge of choice
and it's lofty effect
to choose where to go
then to see and reflect.
Where is my space man?
Where is my dream?
Why is this life
not what it would seem?
Where are the wizards?
And who's hidden up the Fae?
and why does no one question
why the magics gone away?
I miss the happy endings
teenage hero's, sleuths, and spy's.
And the slew of olden knowledge
passed by the well meaning and wise.
Where have the Dragons gone
I do wish they'd chose to stay
but now we've gotten older
they no longer want to play.
I miss those great journey's;
the giants, foes, and swords.
And really fully wondering
where the ends careening towards.
God's not made of other;
He’s built on more.