Once Upon a Time
It's raining I look at my window and wonder is it wrong to think so fondly of my youth,
Is it wrong to keep on looking so tenderly back to younger days to my ‘once upon a time,’
An old fool, a sentimentalist thinking so perseveringly, looking and lingering behind me,
I love the joy of my gentle pastime I would do it anyway despite whatever people may say.
I love the fragrances gone, these days, of flowers in the spring tide of my old past life,
Before the blooms were ruined by the dust of the hard turnpike road where life changed me,
I have many tender memories of years long gone, if they have been gilded, it’s my own gilt,
My memories are my memories, they are more precious to me even than the air I breathe today.
Remembering locking hands and pressing on the grass on which I started to learn to walk,
And my early school days where an eager mind soaked up knowledge and never discrimination,
Understanding words little ones at first and feeling good with a gold star in my workbook,
Making friends, learning while playing games on sweet green grass in a wonderful innocence.
So who cares if I fly high upon the wings of my memories souring over good days long gone,
Back to the earliest scenes of my innocent boyhood days when time was made of purest gold,
The pictures in my mind hang before me colorful moments carved into the hardest of stone,
So can you see why I must recall these days, if I turn my head they will be snatched away.
Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2012
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