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