With The Dark

I've always noticed it to be so - my somewhat fumbling attempts to pen down lines that rhyme always result in an end-product that is rather sad and depressing. I really meant to make this a poem about idyllic yet adventurous childhood, when we usually find something to entertain ourselves, no matter what the time of the day is. Instead, the poem turned out to be something else entirely. Anyhow, I'm putting it up here. Just don't judge me because of this. :-|

With The Dark



Cheerful and bright, eager to grow

She did naught but what her fancy dictated

And the only times a frown creased her brow

Was when the darkness invaded

With the dark came the time to go to bed

And an end to her adventures of the day

But then she made up stories in her head

And brightened up her nights this way

School was looked forward to

Every thing edible was delicious

There were so many things to do

The possibilities were endless

She would grow up soon, she swore

And live the very same way

Sampling everything that life has in store

Being happy each and every day

Alas, oft broken are childhood vows

Growing up is but a pain

More than highs, Life offers lows

And wrecks our resolve with disdain

Each day was fraught with terrible monotony

Friends were few, she was bored

What she couldn't do was deemed cacophony

Yet she seldom did what she adored

With the dark came the time to go to bed

And an end to her frustrations of the day

But then she made up stories in her head

And willed them to bring sleep her way