I fancy a picture on memory's wall,
All the treasures of childhood when we were so small.
The old fashioned farm house with the porch all around,
And the big country kitchen where the folks gathered 'round.
The big range gleams proudly, as if by magic it brings
the goodies to surprise us, oh such wonderful things!
Then I see maas' rocker, throughit's empty today,
And my vision seems blurred as I wipe tears away.

The creek in the meadow still runs past the bog,
Skipping just as in childhood to the bridge made of logs.
The stream was perfect for fishing, and bathing as well.
How we romped in its shallows, more times than we'd tell!

The old one roomed school house was a picturesque place,
Where mysterious lessons each day we must face.
Long summer vacations and holiday delights,
Easter baskets, Santa's' stockings, and the Christmas tree lights!

Have I glorified the moments so precious to me?
Magnified or revised them as I think they should be.
Perhaps its' not always so clear to recall,
When we repaint the pictures on memory's wall.