Naive and free we once were;
Playmates and toys we held so dear.
A mind ever free from woeful troubles,
Yet all we cared were the size of our bubbles.
People, cars, and morning dew,
Never failed to set our faces anew;
Where our tears of sorrow ceased to flow,
And our faces lit up in a resplendent glow.
As we trod down the road of wistful wisdom,
Our doubts and burdens were lined to Lisbon.
Feuds, accidents, and catastrophic floods,
Soon became the fear that flowed in our bloods.
As the sands of time does the bidding of nature,
We’re imperceptibly enthralled by sins and danger.
Now, says who we know not what our futures hold,
But the impending gloom and doom; be foretold.
- Roy