The clay beneath her muddy feet, welled up between her toes,
A squeal of unencumbered bliss, from her young soul arose,
Dancing in the rain alone, arms spread-eagled wide,
An aged mother looking on, shook her head and sighed.
“Remember well these carefree times…before the clock of ages chimes”.
Alf Hutchison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clock-of-ages/
