Memories A little stream flows through the hills, Above it sings the whippoorwills. In years gone by it heard the squeal Of childrens merry laughter peal, As they would skip and slip and slide, And watch the sunlit fishes glide Over rocks and down the sandy side Of the banks of the stream where the children bide Their time on shimmering, summer days And splash and play in the summer haze.
But a single strand of memory frays And breaks the bonds of bygone days. On the banks of the creek no one stays Where the children played in the summer haze, They all grew up and moved away From the banks of the creek and children's play. But sometimes, on a sunlit summer day, Surely, thoughts return and memories stray To the banks of the creek and children's play, On a shimmering, sunlit summer's day.
2 comments:
Oh, happy day! I am thinking of a poem!
Memories
A little stream flows through the hills,
Above it sings the whippoorwills.
In years gone by it heard the squeal
Of childrens merry laughter peal,
As they would skip and slip and slide,
And watch the sunlit fishes glide
Over rocks and down the sandy side
Of the banks of the stream where the children bide
Their time on shimmering, summer days
And splash and play in the summer haze.
But a single strand of memory frays
And breaks the bonds of bygone days.
On the banks of the creek no one stays
Where the children played in the summer haze,
They all grew up and moved away
From the banks of the creek and children's play.
But sometimes, on a sunlit summer day,
Surely, thoughts return and memories stray
To the banks of the creek and children's play,
On a shimmering, sunlit summer's day.
Memories Copyright © 1988 by Fleta Aday.
All rights reserved.
HOW FITTING!
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