In the garden of childhood dreams,
Where laughter painted skies so blue,
We chased the whispers of the breeze,
And danced on fields of morning dew.

With tiny hands, we built our worlds,
In castles made of sand and light,
Imagining lands of untold tales,
Where every day was pure delight.

As years unfolded like a stream,
The gentle flow of time’s embrace,
We learned the art of letting go,
And saw the world through wiser grace.

Yet in our hearts, the child remains,
A beacon in the depths of night,
Reminding us of endless dreams,
And the magic of youthful sight.