The cold winter air, the soft autumn sun

My heart is warm

it sure is sentimental

to sit in this grove | while leaves are falling,

and reminisce of times gone by.

Children together, their innocent glee

they spread out in pairs -- arguing, but free

(of this harsh modern world which so often is cold)

they are so brave, so brave and so bold, no worry of being a'scold

;their little hearts are joy!

they appreciate nature's beauty, and revel in it's taste:
"Take a picture of this!" "No fair, its my take" "Stop whining and just take"

a picture of things before they all change, before your life slips away in a drain.

If they could only picture their innocence, their grace, their face,

twenty years hense,

when they are my age and

wondering why everyone is so cold?