In the tender dawn of childhood’s grace,
Dreams dance in the morning’s embrace.
Yet time, like a hurried stream,
Sweeps away the gentle dream.

Innocence fades with each tick of the clock,
As we climb the winding rock.
The world pulls us with its heavy hands,
Into a life it demands.

Laughter echoes in distant halls,
While shadows grow on the walls.
Once we chased the clouds so high,
Now they drift in a grown-up sky.

Oh, to pause the race of years,
To hold back the flood of tears.
But childhood slips through fingers fast,
A fleeting whisper of the past.