Days Of Old Poem by ERNEST CLARY
Days Of Old
how i yearn
for the days of old
when the fire would burn
and was never cold
the skies were blue
i can dream
days i never knew
down the stream
like a peach
on a tree
out of reach
you can see
though i'm young
growing old
songs i've sung
memories i hold
soon i'll be gone
a day of regret
but i hold on
and will never forget
the days of old
i read about
to that i hold
without a doubt
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 7:33:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
