The sun's back out, smiling like it knows something we don’t,  
no clouds to crowd its face,  
as if it’s finally done with yesterday’s storm  
and is ready to show off a little.  
I stand there, gazing up like a kid  
seeing the sky for the first time.  
The grass is waving, happy to be here,  
and the trees—good grief—are downright dancing,  
with birds singing along like a chorus  
that has no idea how good they sound.  
It’s like a time machine in the air,  
taking me back to those days  
when I ran through fields of grass  
as if the world could never end.  
I remember climbing trees with my best friends—  
our laughter, the only music we needed.  
Everything felt permanent then,  
as if joy lived in every pocket of the universe,  
just waiting to slip out.  
But, of course, time,  
the ultimate party crasher,  
came along, as it always does.  
And yet, isn’t it strange how  
those days still manage to sneak in?  
The memories sit there,  
like old photographs in a drawer,  
always ready to make my heart laugh  
when I pull them out.  
So, yeah, it’s not so bad,  
growing up,  
not when the past still gives me a wink  
now and then.