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Some had one, others didn't.
For those that didn't it is OK to dream about, to wish, that only if...

Sometimes...solutions
don't have problems.

I went down the mountainside
trying to hear if then I could,
the happy laugh the river's guarding,
the last echoes from my childhood.

A yearn, a pilgrimage to my past,
a forest, army of trees, scent of woods,
with crisscrossing paths going nowhere,
to reach Sangri-La...only by foot.

You couldn't see the flowing waters,
but like Ulysses, its Sirens murmur,
which were riding on the river's waves
enticing for a swim the truant young.

Eating berries, wild figs and apples
was then, a forbidden fun,
than see the summer go by the window
of the prison that they called school.

In the time glass has been too long
since that child smile could touch my soul;
where we bathed, screamed and fished
was the place where all laughs were born.

I have the problem of an empty space
left by the absence of happy thoughts,
which so many children spread around
like seeds of life for a tomorrow's crop.

I dipped my fingers in the warm waters
trying to feel again what i feel no more,
and then I heard the giggling laughter
which the river warded from the outside world.

My secret garden always will be there
in the very heart of a lost childhood,
holding a solution without a problem
and an empty space where to put my soul.