How many friendly faces do I see in my chambers of recollection as I call up retrospect,
Cherished scenes rush to mind as its pinions bear me to the times which won't ever return,
Scenes now changed and altered like visions in the deepest of dreams so deep you're there,
Scenes of flower filled fields accessed only by hedge rowed old lanes that no longer exist.
The old lanes where flowers breathed fragrances high into a blue watery sky of days gone by,
That changed into streets and main roads with the noise they bring as we rush through life,
Once these fields had cows and sheep on the slopes and valley's rang with the animals bells,
I once picked bluebells, picked blackberries, picked hazelnuts, with sunbeams for company.
To run like the wind chasing butterflies gently catching them and blowing them off my hands,
How uninterrupted the tides of unhappiness that ripples in the deep recesses of my old mind,
The unclouded days that bathed me in sunshine that cast its brightness across the landscape,
How brilliant the fairy scenes that floats from the canvases out of the caverns of the past.
My sorrow was deep in picture postcard days, days were sweet and long, but my heart swells,
There was no blind grasp of faith, realization began to attend its researches, observations,
A sorrow that has stood the test of time, a bitter sorrow that broke me then as it does now,
Beautiful sorrow, as beautiful as an illustration, as lovely as a flower, as beautiful as an angel.