In my childhood sketchpad, I etched dreams,
Drawing colorful lines creating life from unknown
Worlds unfurling from each stroke of my hand.
Tomorrow’s visions, in a no-man’s land.

My night thoughts would wander, free and wild,
To undiscovered places only a child could find.
Yet, dusk would dim those dreams
Etched on once vibrant pages.

Years have dulled youth’s vibrant sketches
Binding boundless dreams to tighter spaces.
Yet spark still lingers in the quiet twilight,
Tracing childhood dreams etched on sketchbook paper.