When we talk about old times,
Before you moved away,
Back when you were somewhat mine,
You came over everyday,
We used to play that old game,
Racing horses on a track,
Dreaming of honor and fame,
You always brought me back,
Raking leaves in the fall,
Then jumping in the pile,
It was then reduced to something small,
You could always make me smile,
And don’t forget that no matter what I say,
That I will always miss you each and every day.
