My mind in childhood's past was cut adrift And thoughtless tumbled timeless out of space, Unfettered and conventionless I drift Across the dreams that time could not efface. I danced among the windmills of the stars And funnelled down the faultless chutes of time, Amorphous were the friends in from afar That played among the children of my mind. Oh, do not grieve, my trusted, trusted one If I should leave and journey back awhile. My father passed, I saw his looked-for smile; He always came in comfort to his child. And adult children, do not weep of chide, For grief, in grief, in you, not I, resides.