In the meadow where children play,
Whispers of laughter fill the day.
Eyes wide with wonder, hearts unscarred,
Their spirits free, their dreams unmarred.
Innocence blooms like a morning rose,
Unaware of the worldâs harsh prose.
Soft hands grasp at fleeting light,
Believing in the magic of the night.
A world where shadows cannot creep,
Where trust in love runs deep.
The gentle dance of untainted minds,
In a realm where purity binds.
But time, the thief, with silent tread,
Will steal away what once was said.
Yet in their hearts, a spark remains,
A trace of innocence in life’s vast plains.