Buzzing, like bees fresh from a field of clover blooms -
The beautiful din of childhood conversation.
Sweet frosting dripping through layers of love baked cakes.
The smell of beeswax melting to puddles in flames.

Colors, akin to the late evenings proudest show,
Waiting to be ripped apart to reveal their gifts,
And streaming across the room in wisps of wishes
From family and friends making happy memories.

The jubilant ring of children singing brightly.
The sudden hush as hopes and dreams are planted.
A mighty breeze of faith, held for a year, exhaled.
Lights of age extinguished, replaced by childlike glee.

Scooped frozen cream with slices of honeyed layers -
Plated, shared, enjoyed by young and mature alike.
These, a very taste of wide-eyed innocence and sweet
Memory of bygone years spent loved and nurtured.