In Idaho—we’ve both been friends,

First grade girl of innocence.

A memory that now depends,

Neither native citizens,

Meeting both our families’ ends.

 

Her— Arizona Mom made plans,

Me— Colorado family lands.

Now, that is where our story ends,

I miss her lovely little hands,

Time separates with sand.

 

We took our songs into the swings,

Up, Up away— balloon of dreams..

I’m leaving on a jet plane— stings.

We sang to groovy song moonbeams.

We’re tied by fragile memory strings.

 

She had such lovely auburn hair.

And emerald green her eyes

My eyes of blue we’d look to share

My blond haired windblown skies.

Yet, In my dreaming I still care.

 

Perhaps some day by chance we’ll meet,

We’ll push a grandchild in a swing.

The tunes we sang, we’ll then repeat,

Look in each others eyes and sing,

Missed songs of days gone bye.