Oh those days, how I picture myself sitting under old trees,

and looking at the mirror, I realised the old me.

The memories of my childhood, once livid in the past,

now sadly though, they cannot forever last.

I used to waddle through swamps, rivers and lakes,

and walk for miles until my legs ache.

I used to draw on old floors, and grab a dusty chalk,

and immerse myself in my friends' silly talk.

I used to paint a picture, and hang it on walls,

and clip it around tightly, so it never falls.

I used to play with my friends down the misty hall,

with rackets, or a soccer ball.

Oh those days, how I wished it was still the old me,

but that old life form of me just ceased to be.