I never got to make paper boats.

Oh, to have been that child

The one who lived across the street,

Piles of paper surrounding him.

Oh, to have been that child

The one whose mother made fresh lemonade

Which I could smell but never taste.

Oh, to have been that child

The one whose father comforted him as he cried

Placing a bandaid on his skinned knee

Oh, to have been that child…...