In forgotten fields of green,
Where laughter echoed, wild and free,
I chase the ghosts of childhood's dream,
And whispers of yesterday's sweet theme.
Sunday morning, bright and fair,
Church bells chime, with love and care,
Father's prayers, a gentle guide,
We're lost in warmth, where love resides.
The Lord's guidance, a beacon bright,
Leads us through life's plodding night,
In innocence, we took it...
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