I wish, I wish, I wish,
the star, the flying horse, the dancing diamond,
had not shrunk to a simple pinprick of light,
the rainbow dreams grown monochrome,
a mist of rain against black cliffs.
I wish the children had not grown to people
with no need of a hand to hold,
distant as a special field beneath a lark-filled sky,
elusive as rain on black cliffs.