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Childhood Views
So long ago I remember our house on the hill.
I remember my favorite window that viewed my backyard.
The old oak tree appears to stand on guard.
The morning sun would bring a shine, soft rays would sweep
the blue spruce pine.
The Sparrows in full sight would skip upon the ground, then
Spring into flight in chirping sound.
I sat by this window all seasons, for many blissful reasons,
It was my special freedom that calms my way until I could go out
To play.
The sun rises and sets many years, today the light reflects my tears.
My loved ones have died, some have moved away, and I can no longer play.
I was told long ago, that life is not a game, yet, it lingers in the heart
Until God calls us home by name, yet, the childhood spirit remains the same.
Somehow we are blessed with youth when age has taken its claim...
So long ago I remember our house on the hill.
I remember my favorite window that viewed my backyard.
The old oak tree appears to stand on guard.
The morning sun would bring a shine, soft rays would sweep
the blue spruce pine.
The Sparrows in full sight would skip upon the ground, then
Spring into flight in chirping sound.
I sat by this window all seasons, for many blissful reasons,
It was my special freedom that calms my way until I could go out
To play.
The sun rises and sets many years, today the light reflects my tears.
My loved ones have died, some have moved away, and I can no longer play.
I was told long ago, that life is not a game, yet, it lingers in the heart
Until God calls us home by name, yet, the childhood spirit remains the same.
Somehow we are blessed with youth when age has taken its claim...
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Childhood Views
Childhood Views