Those days when hearts were light and free,
happiness flew from tree to tree,
seemed plenty there for everyone,
like butterflies in summer sun.
The woods were filled with laughter then
and promised kisses sought in vain,
soft laughter drifting as we’d run
like butterflies in summer sun.
Innocence lit by summer days,
filtered now through wintry haze,
such happy times we filled with fun
like butterflies in summer sun.
Those days when hearts were light and free
like butterflies in summer sun.
