Where Does Fiction Grow, If Not The Mind Of A Child? Poem by Savannah Salas

I remember staring blankly
The walls pristine and white
Never not once touched by childhood hands
Never been altered or dis plotted by the messiness of children.
I listen and I hear sounds.
They preach and give me comfort because I am not alone.
It is my mind that bellows through the halls.
I hear the chants and perfect hymns sung by the ones I've created.
I am nearly an adult now. And soon my memory will fade....
I will not come back to this childhood I remember now.
I can't help but hurt at the thought of not seeing the people I've come to know and love and understand.
Their voices scared me, enlightened me, made me feel not alone in my imagination.
I was gifted. I was given this reality and I gave reality some fiction.
This truth is my own. I had once lived in a kingdom,
Surrounded by water. There a princess lay in her chambers and I the inventor skilled within the mind created a progress in life that shows.
I carry my faint and unrealistic memory now into my adulthood, and so on into my golden years. It was time to grow up and put away childish things and so I did.
How humbly I sit back and wish to visit the characters that bewildered my excitement and had given me a childhood full of dreams.
As I slept one day, I could hear the faint tapping in the background of the tv, it was the princess humming and I knew I was going to her soon.