If you ask someone to tell you about a memory from the past,
Most will seem to think back to that time when memories last.
That period from the age of two, to maybe eight or ten,
When fun was very plentiful, and all hurts seem to mend.
It seemed responsibility was a word you would not hear.
You could fight the bad guys every day and never show your fear.
You could be your favorite hero and sail the seven seas.
And spend each night with dog in bed, and never catch his fleas.
The stories in the books you read, would take you places far.
From deep inside the central earth, up to that special star.
You’d travel all around the world, each night when you would sleep.
Then wake up the next morning with your covers in a heap.
I remember building tree houses, at only ten feet high.
But when your only four foot two, they seem to reach the sky.
I’d hammer nails into the oak, but never to the end.
The wood so hard, my aim so poor, it seems they’d always bend.
I’d run across the fields of hay and through the rows of corn.
Then dig a tunnel through the snow, on that early winter morn.
My hands were cold, but there was gold, outside and in the sun.
With forts to build and swords to wield, I was having such great fun.
I was a child with trials, with imperfections from my birth.
But never once would I feel, like I was of lesser worth.
From the days I can remember, the Lord protected me.
And took away the hurt and pain, and gave me eyes to see.
That I was more than special. I was a child of the King.
That through the pain and heart ache, He gave me cause to sing.
Those special children’s melodies, I knew them all by heart.
Now even in my older years, they still will play their part.
I better get back to reality, with responsibility and work.
When just to make a living, will rarely have a perk.
But God has been so gracious, to both me and my wife.
By letting us both remember, “The Best Time In Life.”
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