Sometimes when I am at my ease
A simple odor treads the breeze
And from the past some mem’ry brought
Across my mind in homely thought
That waits upon those childhood days
Where knowledge grows and friendship strays.
I’m not so sure that as I’ve grown
My youthful fears have all but flown,
However names I can’t recall
Will ever plague my portrait wall
And recollections I connote
May brim my eye or catch my throat.
And if I choose to chance forget
Some dream that’s had no ending yet,
One face that lingers on may cling
To fragile moments spread with spring,
Now bearing neither ache nor rage
Becomes the privilege of age.
Claire V. Bogdanos 