Fresh were the daisies,
As we ran and played,
Glowing in the morning sun,
At the start of our day.
Sweet sounds of birds,
From the treetop branches,
Days of youth,
Filled with smiles and romances.
Long were those summers,
When the cool breeze whispered,
That flowed into autumn,
With its cold morning crispness.
Dressing up snowmen,
In warm woolly hats,
Walking the mountains,
To that place where we sat.
The valley below us,
That called out with pride,
That smile on my face,
To have you by my side.
Jayne Louise Davies
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