I was in my home town yesterday, and I passed the school yard where I use to play.

Through the eyes of memory, I could see, that little girl who use to be me.

I saw her run, and jump, and play. She seemed so near, yet so far away.

That was me in another day, with dark brown hair, not silver gray.

That was me, playing hide 'n' seek, behind the big oak tree.

That was me, so full of life, and zest, and glee.

Oh, dear God, can it really be, that deep inside, that child is me!

Sometimes, though I don't understand what it is about, I feel that little girl is struggling to get out.

Surely, springtime and youth will return some day, and I will meet that little girl at the end of the way.

She will be more than just a warm, winter memory - she will once again me .

I truly do believe, that once this life is over, I will be that little girl running barefoot through the clover.