Sometimes children, the fortunate few,
find themselves somewhere; someplace new.

Some reached by bubbles, and puddles, and rain
Others by swings, and trees, and trains.

No matter the how, no matter the way
Each child destined arrives all the same.

This is the place, Where The Children Go.
Full of colors and wonders in infinite flow.

Within the mysterious mist

Glowing such mystical blush
The ground so incredibly soft
That it's nearly a mush.

The wind is loosed and scented like gum
It whistles and sings and pops with hums.

The plants are thin and long and wavy.
The stars are sparkling,  dancing like crazy.

There’s food in that place
That’s nourishing, rich.
It fills up their tummies
It scratches their itch.

Beyond that beyond
To that place with no name
Where the children all go
From once they all came.

- J.D. Clair