Semi bitten berries colored dust 

Picked with love, wiped, popped into mouth 

Magic of memories, truest joy to trust 

No matter regions, directions, north-south 

Most fun were breaking rules to flout 

Hiding from grownups, felt so fully grown 

Dressed up old, tried altered grown tone 

No amount of faking old, ages youth young

Races age unawares, all bemoan 

Softly croons the nostalgia unsung