Heirlooms of the good old days

Bring us closer to our infancy

Though carefree and easy

Memories lack consistency


When our world was but a playground

We were fresh in our naiveté

But soon a jarring moment

Makes us see things in another way


No more do we skip about

And smile at every stranger

The Technicolor fades a bit

Once introduced to danger


It’s then that we begin our course

Of trying to return

To the days we spent in sunlight

Without seeming e’er to burn


We suffer through the cyclone

Of an unforgiving world

Hoping one day we’ll reemerge

A windswept little girl

The Golden Days of Yesteryear

I lived outside for hours

When I was just a girl

I’d run or bike or cartwheel

And dizzy myself with whirls


I played pretend each night

After singing until hushed

And only ever grownups

Seemed to do things stressed and rushed


As time moved ever forward

I slowly lost that ease

I rarely now will play outside

Or risk skinning my knees


The days of youth seemed endless

Almost fitting years inside

The golden days of yesteryear

What a bitchin’ ride

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