Drifting back to my old days,
I was a little child
sleeping on his mother's back
whispering under the moon light
barking along way off
through the night
I'd talk about spring,
goldenbells along the brook
a bellow from a distance
lying on the bank
pulling a weed out
a butterfly
passing around me
I'd speak of summer,
roaring showers
and rainbow over the hill
glowing sun light
and swimming in the lake
with the sound of frogs
wisps of smoke curling up
killing mosquitos
I'd rap about fall,
yellow grains in a pot
and red balls on a persimmon tree
tempting a child
a harmonica
and an old six-string
with a chorus of crickets
I'd shout about winter,
a chilly wind
sweeping over my face
flying a kite
flickering flames at the snowy filed
a full moon behind them
silence and darkness
through the night
When it all was over,
a lot of work would lay
before me
