Oh for those days of innocents,

A time when none of us meant offense,

At Christmas we look for Santa’s presents,

Girls and boys both had differences,

We were a whole lot more than in any way dense…

Doctor we played,

Of skinny dippin’ too we weren’t afraid,

We were young, no masquerade,

Then it was during our first decade…

Mommy, where do babies come from?

Ask your father; he said to ask you,

Did you talk to your grandmom?

She said to ask you too…

Ah the beauty of not knowing,

Asking later on after you’ve done some growing,

Fortunately for mom, by then you were into baseball and throwing,

Snowballs, fastballs, sliders and gliders, anything but knowing…J

© ed ~ 6/11/06