Missing days past…

Of Playful Ways

I miss the ways of playful days

of hoses, puddles, water sprays.

Of sunny hopes and long warm rays,

I miss the ways of playful days.


We sang new songs on playful days.

We danced around the cats who stay

to watch our spirits all ablaze.

I miss the ways of playful days.


Pig pile, nose-laps, moonlight gaze,

garden, horses, artful phase –

I miss the ways of playful days.

The memory within me, stays.


The messy rooms, the puzzle trays,

I miss the ways of playful days.

We read and wrote, and offered praise

for every special thoughtful phrase.


I miss the days of playful ways.

My life moves fast, I’m in a haze

of short and transitory days.

I miss the days, of playful ways.

Darylann Campbell



About me

The Crow and the Pitcher

A crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a pitcher which had once been full of water.

The crow put its beak into the mouth of the pitcher and found that very little water was left in it and she couldn’t reach down far enough to drink.

She tried repeatedly and gave up, in despair.

Suddenly, a thought came to her, and she picked up a pebble and dropped it into the neck of the pitcher.

She took another pebble, and another and another still, and dropped them into the pitcher.

At last, she saw the water mounting up near her, and casting a few more pebbles, she was able to quench her thirst and save her life.

As told by Aesop, abridged by Darylann Campbell