In my youth we lived in San Diego,

Or rather I should say, in Chula Vista.

I was a youngster, watching the big show.

The world was mine, flowering with delight.

Nothing was lost to my eyes all aglow.

Climbing up into the arms of a tree

I watched the scary bull-dog down below.

Those were they days when you wandered alone

And always were left to learn, to just grow.

Getting back home in time to have supper

That was the important thing you should know.

Can one believe that I was only five?

It seems odd, I see now. True enough though.

Remembering the place that was our home,

Brings a tear to my eye, an old stucco.

Quiet streets of the old California

It passed away, lo, many years ago.

Nostalgia is all one has left of then

But this is something I will always know

Never to be lost to my heart and soul,

When the oleander bloomed I did too.