Those faint memories, that young brain;
Gone are the days when things used to be the same.

That park teeming with children, those queues near the swings;
Those were the days when each one of us had developing wings.

Those high pitched screams, that yearn for tasty pies;
Now it's all about lonely, muffled cries.

That era of being carefree, that anxiety of seeing things being done;
It's now just a bubble where we wait for the text of that someone.