Warm breezes rustled the locks of children,
On those long summer days of youth.
When each day born a brilliant orb,
That moved through a sea of blue .
The children's cheerful voices rang-out,
Above the din of day-to-day.
Each time a cloud resembled a ship,
That sailed by on its way.
Those clouds, like ships, steered no special course,
As they winded their way through the blue.
The days grew shorter, The ships steered straighter,
Not long til they sailed out of sight.
Summer's brilliance waned, the wind a memory
Of ships at sail at sea.
Those ships from this shore are seen no more.
Bu t on a distant shore they may....