Infant Thoughts

On the train to Seven Sisters,
Through my bleary eyes I see;
A boy making his mark on the ground
Probably using chalk, his picture intense
Perspectives were set, his mind at rest
- This used to be me, you know
I have blown bubbles to set them free
Following them until colours change and burst.
I have sat in the back of my Dad's car
On the cheap blue seats, leaning back my head
To watch a moving scenery skyline.
I remember being alive for two or three years,
My mum making humming-croak noises for my ears.
My garden full of greenery and frames
Ducks, chickens, and the acquired smell of their food
- I used to be him, you know
In many ways we do not change
We shall always occupy time dreaming