Aromas of childhood wafting through
Are they immortal in you, O wayward Wind?
For I've aged in myself
metamorphosing through linear years;
And the freshness of youth which was once beheld, now
Has all but been buried under the dunes
Of shifting memories accumulated;
Where there once was an oasis of innocence—
Where bathed this pristine soul;
But since has been evaporating from this cloudless arid clime.

Methinks you've vaulted my scent of nascent-hood
O dear, dear omnipresent Wind,
So that I may inhale the tang of youth
Cycled back by your exhalation
So that I, may gulp a self, that was once closer to the truth.