When I Was Younger

When I was younger, I was richer,
With pockets full of stones,
Of buttons, shells and treasures
That I’d gathered as my own.

I had kingdoms in the garden,
And castles in the rain,
A blanket made a fortress,
A cardboard box, a train.

The moon belonged to no one,
The stars were mine to keep,
And every whispered bedtime tale
Was something soft to sleep.

A penny was a fortune,
A puddle was the sea,
And every passing summer
Seemed endless as could be.

I never knew the value
Of minutes ticking by,
Or how the smallest moments
Could one day make me cry.

For growing up was costly,
Though no one told me why,
The older I became,
The less I seemed to buy.

So, when I miss my riches,
I don’t miss gold or things,
I miss the little treasures
That childhood somehow brings.

When I was younger, I was richer,
Though I never understood,
That having less could somehow mean
I had more than I could.