Beneath the old oak tree, we played,
With laughter bright, and no dismay,
The world was ours, a sunny day,
Where dreams and fantasies would stay.

The creek would sing a gentle tune,
Our feet would dance, each afternoon,
The sky a canvas, painted blue,
A timeless joy, so pure and true.

In meadows green, we’d chase the light,
Through fields of gold, from morn till night,
Our hearts so free, no hint of plight,
In childhood’s arms, our spirits bright.

Now memories, like aged wine,
Flow through my mind, a sweet design,
A treasure trove, so rich, so fine,
Of days gone by, forever mine.