When I was young
I would run and skip and play. 
When I was young
I’d catch snowflakes on my tongue
glide like the wind on my sleigh
and I'd never stop all day
When I was young


When I grow old
and walk with a limp in my stride;
when I grow old
and my hair has lost its gold,
I’ll just sit by the fireside
watching the clouds drift by outside
when I grow old.

(Rondelet form)

march 2004
©Janet Reid