He wanted to show me the stars tonight,
Yet, the blinds were askew and I was weary,
I dismissed his vision, his thirst for magic,
I closed the sky to young eyes, bleary.

The warnings, the bribes, the exhausted "Whys"
The never ending tears of confusion,
My curious little boy, lost out there,
Amidst a world of imagination, time and illusion.

Then morning comes, reality dawns,
Life beckons routine again,
It's a battle often won without any fun,
Yet, he's so far from seeing year ten.

The rush through the day, the dismissive way,
The stories we hardly hear,
As day by week by month flies past,
We obey time but miss a whole year.

Yes, time goes on, routine is the song,
Every beat struggles, significantly in tune,
However, when offbeats sound, afraid to hit the ground,
We rush again, no time to talk, Mr. Moon!

Stories are read, familiar words are said,
We hurry them off to sleep,
Their dreams, unheard, their words absurd,
Our every word they often hold deep.

Mums' weary eyes, engaged with life's highs,
Life's torments, life's unhinging sorrow,
Blind to their play, messy hair, the day to day,
Tomorrow just another tomorrow.

Tonight, the stars suddenly almost seem bright,
I open my eyes, guilt ridden, I can now see,
What my boy saw before, as I closed his bedroom door,
The magic of his world...silly me!