In the quiet whispers of the morning mist,
I hear the echoes of my childhood days,
Where laughter danced on the gentle breeze,
And every corner held a hidden maze.

The old oak tree, a guardian so grand,
Stood tall against the test of time,
Its branches cradling our hopes and fears,
A silent witness to our youthful climb.

The streets, though worn, still hold their charm,
Each crack a story, each stone a guide,
Leading me back to where I belong,
In the embrace of a place so wide.

Now miles away, in dreams I roam,
Back to that haven, my cherished home,
Where the heart beats pure, and love resides,
In my hometown, where eternity abides.