Still a Child
By Mary E. White

There are no children in our house
to run and laugh and play.
They all were here and then one day
all grown and gone away. 

Gone are days of questions “Why?”
and yells of childish glee.
Oh, to go back to the days
when they were here with me.

A job well done, we should take pride
our children are all grown,
to happy, gentle, loving souls
our hearts would never moan.

There are still children running, playing
in memories we hold dear.
Forever children within our
minds whenever they are near.