My aunt and uncle, seated on the lawn,
You could use your imagination

And call it a lawn, but their concern
Was the kitties, their observation

Showed so much life in such small packages,
The world was so new to them then,

This picture of childhood, a halcyon time,
Will never come again,

Grandpa, just over their shoulders, watched
While in genial conversation,

My mind sweeps back to that summer day
Of innocence and preoccupation,

Oh, could we live those days again,
Would we wish them changed or the same?

Or would we consider what might have been
Just a rose by another name?

by D. Edgar Murray