Past
There is wisdom in romancing the past,
In making it more grand than was true.
Buttered-over memories tend to recast
Each morning's challenges in a lighter hue.
Our kindergarten teacher was a saint,
We were truly the apples of her eye.
Our biggest sin was to utter "ain't."
And on all adults we could surely rely.
We knew the world was made for us.
Butterflies, carnival rides told as much.
We were free of fears, worries, or fuss.
Life was rich with a sunlit touch.
That's the way we perceive it today,
From a world-worn view of long ago.
It's a blessing to look at it that way—
To believe again what we did not know.
Years hence if we live prudent and wise
We will romance this present as the past.
And it will seem to our utter surprise
Buttered over with memories blessedly vast.
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