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?