The old house sagged like an empty sack,
a stark testimony to its slow decay,
but it was still peopled front to back,
swarming like bees as they say.
A child always looks to its mother,
to champion its causes through life,
she stands ready to pamper and smother,
him with kisses at the first sign of strife.
Would that I could reclaim the sunshine,
my early youth brings to mind,
the days spent in ecstasy's bosom,
the days now left far behind.