Vistas

Gazing down the corridor of time, I see a memory.
I strain to touch the innocence of youth, with fleeting ecstasy.
For lurking not so far beyond that realm of sweet naivety,
The tears and pain wait silently...so patiently...majestically...

Hanging in my consciousness, like strains of haunting melody,
The image slowly dissipates and drifts into eternity.
And through the mists of joy and pain, the dawning of maturity
Breaks forth on near horizons in a blaze of gentle agony.