Across the fields of yesterday <br /> He sometimes comes to me, <br />A little lad just back from play -- <br /> The lad I used to be. <br /> <br />And yet he smiles so wistfully <br /> Once he has crept within, <br />I wonder if he hopes to see <br /> The man I might have been.<br /><br />Thomas S. Jones Jr.<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sometimes-49/
