The garage became our cave

with monsters lurking inside.

The backyard was a carnival,

the swing set was our ride.

The living room was our center stage,

blasting radio our band.

And our business to make us millionaires

was a lemonade stand.

We converted the couch into a boat,

the floor was the raging sea.

Our bicycles were parade floats,

our house was in a tree.

We were princesses and pilgrims,

sometimes rich movie stars.

We built a cardboard spaceship

and blasted off to Mars.

Now the garage is just a garage,

musty and filled with dust.

The swing set is just a swing set

though creaky and covered with rust.

The brilliant colors have faded

from those childish daydreams.

Wouldn’t life be adventurous

if it were the way it had seemed?