Year by year, season by season, day by day
quietly in the memories of children I live.
In my sleeves, drifting in peaceful slumber
tiny whispered wishes, two or three.
I remember the days
Entrusted with wishes
Danced above summer fields
Nostalgia To glimpse old abandoned barns that dot county roads often awaken memories of a childhood filled with the freedom to roam from dawn to dusk without a morsel of worry.