These sad, declining, dying days of yore;
Fair sunshine morns all burnished gold and green,
The tender breasts where youthful passion tore
Sweet sighs of love that sang our heart’s refrain;
And sweeter still, fond memories of you
In frill and frock, a wondrous fairy child,
An angel sure, and yet a woman too
Whose silent charms a thousand hearts beguiled.
This was our time, when youth and dreams were one
And hopeful hands fair cradled every star.
Each triumph was a song not left unsung,
Each day so bright no shade of dark could mar.
Though memories be but rifts in sands of time,
Midst fondest thoughts, your memory reigns sublime.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.