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