The Golden Children Poem by Fiona Burgess

What wondrous webs we weave
As we lie lazing in the sun
Idle souls and idle hands
To idle even for fun
Minds left to drift
Aimlessly upon the summer breeze
Following a thread of fancy
Completely at our ease
Never a thought to worry us
Each of us a golden child
Not bound by the whims of society
Just this side of tame from wild
We live our dreams everyday
No challenges or trials
Now laws that can really bind us
Ahead of us more shimmering miles
Taking pleasure when it's offered
And making our own when it's not
Never imagining for one second
That our hearts are going to rot
We drift through life in perceived perfection
Unsullied by the mundanities of anything less
We continue on oblivious
Of the turmoil and the mess
Our bodies beneath their couture fall to ruin
While all around us our sand castles collapse
Our paper souls fade and crumble
But nevermind dear, it's just a relapse.