Its meaning I set out to define,
And I delved through memories of mine.
Flashes of sunny days floated by,
Rising on the swing as the sky unfurled.
Glimpses of cold winter evenings flashed by,
Ensconced in a book, I was in another world.
Was it in the paper boats floating on a rainy day?
Or the doodles on the wall that refused to be erased?
Did it lie in the cloud shapes in the sky?
Or maybe in the butterflies that we chased?
Was it in the squabbles in school over stationery?
Or in the flutter of our hearts which was only temporary?
Was it in the plaited hair and plain old skirt?
Or in the shoes that shone without a speck of dirt?
Maybe it was in the happiness for the little things,
The blooming of flowers in spring,
The scent of the mud that the rain brings,
Or perhaps in the joy of listening to the neighbourhood birds sing.
Maybe, back then it was a simpler time,
It remained within but I never gave a dime.
It lasted while I was in ignorance,
But today, it has no existence.