Those Days
Those Days
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
How I wish to sit between the trees,
With week-long blossoms, I shall flee,
Yet coming to stop my joyful tracks,
Is a year-long winter trap,
But what mother says, should be followed,
Thou shall have to bear times of sorrow,
For flowers bloom before the sparrow.