I 'am grown, and have ran the gauntlet of time.
Now my youth has become pictures on a wall.
it does help to stir ones memory.
Gentle swaying memories open the door to the morning sun.
With everyday a child's run,
for youth forever plays in the wells of memory.
Every breath is etched upon the pages of my mind.
Forming revelations of memory sublime.
A journey across seasons in my rear view,
where everyday is yesterday, happier times anew.
Yes I do remember when,
I fade into memory.