That evening in spring

I feel as if I were a little girl now
and jaunt about the trees
run after squirreels in playful mirth
in the delicate breeze.

I'd make a bouquet of jasmine flowers
and of the ones they call kaner
I would bead them through the pointy grass,
and arrange them layer-after-layer.

Over different ferns upon a bench
and then watch it with delight
the alter of lord or marriage of dolls
or playground of many a mischiveous sprite.

Then tired soon of the static fun
We'd run and play some jumpy games
In humid joy, in nascent passion
of life's little lamp set aflame

I'd not bother about the upside down skirt
that would sway whilst I jump the fence
I'd not worry about the ugly tan
that sun's abundance gave.

I'd roam till dark with torch in hand
and company of faithful friends
in belief that once I grow up big
alone the dark I'd solely safely face.

The rules would be simple
the destination straight
the temple of knowledge
 conquered each year with zealous grace.

I think about those innocent times
like a day passed ago a little while
and soon before I know youth shall fill
 leaves of those fondly remembered stills.

When memory  fails
and heart stops to beat
 for last in eyes they'd joyfully sail
those enchanting evenings of the spring.