These are memories of my country childhood where my siblings and I grew up.It was a quiet country village where children could wander without fear..

On pleasent foggy misty days

my spirit wanders far away

to lovely moments lost in time

a spring below a misty hill

where sweet shrubs bloomed in early spring

and roses wild of palest pink

more fragile than the sofest silk

 

Barefoot girls walked freely there

scared of niether man or beast

we wandered through the hills and fields

to gather wood to cook our meals

we picked black berries from the briar

for mama to cook her cobbler pies

 

We picked up nuts on graveyard hill

where mossy graves lay long untouched

yes times were hard and very lean

I would not live that  time again

and yet my heart turns back with love

to sunny days and barefoot girls

and mama at the kitchen door

.