The wildflowers grow – Out in the field;

Crisp rustic scene – My memory fills;

Of pleasant wanderings – In the mounts;

Happier days – Roaming around;

When I was young – Nary a care;

Oh! for a way – To go back there;

I’d see my young self – In that field;

And warn him of – Dangers concealed;

Within the trails – That you will choose;

That will inflict – A brutal bruise;

I’d say – There are some deadly storms;

You can avoid – By changing course;

But would my young self- Pay me heed;

While standing there – Among those weeds:

Probably not – He’d look at think;

This old, bald guy – Thinks he’s a shrink;

Oh well – Guess it’d be worth of try;

If back in time – I could just fly.