She was three and I was four,
She, the girl that lived next door.
Our parents spoke and spent the day,
While she and I were sent to play.
Dark hair, dark eyes and impish smile,
While I was full of daring guile.
We tried to do as adults would,
But never really understood.
And we were close, she and I,
Swore we'd never say goodbye.
We fixed it with a guarantee
And pledged our troth at four and three.
It's seventy years since we had part,
But still encased, my mind, my heart.
I wonder, she remembers me?
Our pledge, our troth, our guarantee?