There in the front yard,
Grow little Daisies each year,
The hands that planted them,
Are no longer found here.

A rusting Fire Chief car,
The highlight of each day,
The sun rise would catch you,
A busy little boy at play.

Sometimes you would swing,
In the trees by the walk,
I would listen at the window,
Just to hear your childish talk.

You were always on the go,
Soaking wet most of the time,
Putting out fires was your job,
Cute little boy full of grime.

You always warmed my heart,
I loved to watch you in play,
Daylight 'till dark outside,
You would spend each day.

I look out at the old rusting car,
Tears cloud my aging eyes,
It brings back precious memories,
Reminding how time flies.

I need to water the Daisies,
They seem to wilt more now,
Still in the same dirt pot,
Moving them I won't allow.

Age has taken a toll on the car,
It has not spared me from its path,
We grow older together day by day,
But the sweet memories will fore'er last.

I love you my darling Hero,
Little Fire Chief of yesteryear,
You will find the Daisies blooming,
Every time you come back here.

Don't let the times be too long,
The years ever so fastly span,
Return and build your memories,
At the house where it all began. 

Gayle Davis©
19 March 2010
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