In the shadow of the ancient oak, we stood,
Whispering secrets to the wind’s soft breath.
The golden sun painted our childhood days,
As laughter danced on paths we’d tread.

Time has woven its silent tapestry,
Of moments lost and cherished dreams.
The echoes of our voices linger still,
In the corners of forgotten fields.

Nights spent under a canopy of stars,
Where promises were made in the moon’s soft glow.
The gentle hum of crickets’ serenade,
Serenading hearts that used to know.

Now we walk down different roads, apart,
Yet memories bind us like a sacred thread.
The past, a treasure chest of faded light,
Illuminates the path that lies ahead.