Young Writers Society

This is a poem I wrote based on a novel I'm working on. There's a man, 22 years old, in love with a woman who he promises to travel the world with. They finally get out on their own boat, but ride into a storm and get thrown into the sea. When he wakes up, he's in a strange place, in the body of an eight year old boy. The longer he spends there, the more of his old life he forgets.
'If I'm old before I'm young,' is the title of the novel, and I plan for this to be kind of like a prologue.

= = = = =

Fields of green brought forth the spring
and cast the eastern cliffs with gold,
while we watched the ocean and dreamt of foreign lands.

Then you came, with the sweetest laughter,
stories of all things enchanted,
and eyes filled with water and mist.

Those memories, now so unclear,
of haunted skies and lightening sparks,
are blurred behind a veil of salty water.

Now there's sunny days and careless times,
warm sands and cold winds,
and waves that wash your footprints away.

The cliffs out here are stained with red,
and with the will of a child I stand
and bare the bitterest of winds.

I clasp these tiny hands together,
while the chill of late August steals away
the warmth of a lovers embrace.

With the heart of a man
I long for you
to steal me from complexity.

Through the eyes of a child
I see your face
and seek the comfort you gave me.

So I ask;
am I a man, or am I a child?
Were we in love, or am I lost?