I’m after a time not read on the clock Nor measured or noticed at all It’s leisurely, loiter-ly, a stroll or a walk Or as slow as an ant is small. This time surrounds us at dinner It warms like a laugh heard doors down It centers you, humbles you, nabs you a sinner And adorns every mem’ry with a crown. I’m after a time for which there’s no pay Where only good settles at the end of each day The place you can go to for hours when old Where the glimmer of childhood shines brighter than gold. That’s the kind of time I’m after I feel it, it seems, once it’s past— Like Christmas or buckling laughter— The thoughts which in life seem to last. But isn’t that the beauty of ev’ry thought? On occasion you look back and say With friends of old—in joy you’re caught “Ha! I remember that day! She was there—And so was I!” Sweet and soothing as a lullaby And then that thought swoops down to fly And shoots straight up into the sky— The sun casts down its ray on me And the thought blooms into memory. Sweetness fills your soul and hence Those old minutes turn to moments.
A Different Kind Of Speaking 