When I peep into past
And recall life’s early morn
Present life stings and pains
Like sting of cactus thorn
For a while I get lost
In sweet memories of playful days
Little playmates and their funny ways
Tops and marbles and kites
Petty squabbles and fist-fights
Eyes wonderous, colored objects
Burlap bags and fragile slates
But like brilliant night of fullmoon
This flashback too recedes soon
And again the cycle of life
Same domestic chores same
Familiar wife