Here is a poem that I wrote
Just for old time’s sake,
And while I wrote it I sat back
And dreamed of golden days.
Those were days! I wrote and wrote,
Of everything under the sun,
The days on which I had nothing to do —
And yet everything somehow got done!
Those were the days of summer so sweet,
With rose-hued glass they gleamed
(I grow emotional at their recollection)
Those long-forgotten dreams.
How quickly one grows and looks back on it all,
How bittersweet it rings,
Though that was but a month ago,
And I am but fifteen.