Sometimes I visit childhood scenes of not so long ago and walk again in timeless dreams of life's eternal flow. My heart has not forgot the scenes of kitchen and of kin nor quiet evenings by the fire and childish play within. Perhaps a furry presence comes and rubs against my feet to tell me she is glad I came and hopes to beg a treat. Then morning calls and I must wake again to sunlit gold where cadenced seasons mark the fact that I am growing old.