Lost youth

Life is strange and life is weird how we appeared. Our mothers had daughters and some regrets.
But was so amazed by our first steps. And as we gooed and gaggled, and also the times we wobbled and waggled. And as we lie in our cots at night as we dream of the wonderful sights. The birds the bees and ye my favourite the monkeys in the trees. The grass and the sky and the sun so high. How pretty life is when I close my eye. And as years and events just fly by I sit here alone and I cry. Oh how I miss my life as that little lost boy.

January'2007