|Pictures of our youth|
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?