Childhoods Sunlight spills through morning skies, Barefoot I run, my spirit flies. On the swing, I go back and forth, Watching cows grazing softly in the north. Roses bloom where I tiptoe slow, Petals drifting like fallen snow. My old bike waits along the lane, Every turn whispers freedom’s name. Hide and seek beneath oak trees, Laughter carried by the breeze. Down by the stream, we’d jump the ditch, Chasing the day without a hitch. Roosters crow as we run past the gate, Dir

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