The then sky and the now sky — they are one.
Your childhood memories, so far away,
Yet they are just yesterday.
The clouds move slowly, as if to convey
You are miles away from a time you used to play.

Rose-tinted glasses I wore on those halcyon days,
A requiem for dreams and a midsummer haze.
We played on the lawn, April through May,
A painting fit for the Louvre or the d’Orsay.

Reality distortion and electric sheep.
Are we inside the Matrix, deep?
Can we download our so-called self,
Or is it just a book on a shelf?

Will it matter — real or faux?
The world is not what it may seem.
We are all still children.
Wake up and dream.