Sometimes I miss her, that long-ago girl.
She wore chiffon, and treasured her curls.
Those days were a much simpler life,
when laughter was gentle and light,
in a time of white lace and pearl.
Sometimes I miss her - that long-ago girl.
Sometimes I see her, far down Time's hall.
She waves to me through long-ago light.
Like a far distant echo, I hear her call,
soft as the sound of a songbird in flight.
Long ago girl, with long-ago dreams,
you were sure it would all turn out right.
Through peaks and valleys,and plateaus between,
we traveled the days and the nights.
Sometimes like a ray from Heavenly beams,
she whispers remembrance of long-ago dreams.
But it fades like a wind in whirl,
the sweet memory of that long ago girl.
Life has since taught me so many things,
that long-ago girl was too young to know.
Travel has brought us a slow seasoning,
through Summer blossoms, and cold Winter snow.
Memory is dim of that long-ago world,
full of dreams and hopes of a long-ago girl.
Yet, as the years pass on Time's fleeting wing,
the older I get, the clearer she calls.
It seems in the distance, I hear her sing -
words full of windows; songs without walls.
Long-ago girl, with long-ago dreams,
you really knew much more than I thought.
As memory flows, sometimes it seems,
you whisper of truth I forgot.
When I stand in the silence of long-ago time,
you whisper a song in my mind.
Then comes a vision of a long-ago world,
and the long-ago song, of a long-ago girl.
( © 2001 - "Future Folk" Music - Betty Curtis )