April Showers

Grey like slate, skipping, slipping
Childlike innocence, wide-eyed tripping
Happy in this dreamy state
Wishing the real world would abate.
Rushing in as a tide it enters
Too many people, too many faces
Impassive curtain, falling, shielding
Pulling the drawbridge, now unyielding.
Whatever happened to that child?
Curious wanderer, and a little wild.
Now diminished and unprobing
Hardly living, barely coping
Taking refuge and consolation
In deceitful imagination.