Why would I wish I were twenty years younger?
Was 1997 so great?
And even though it's getting late -
I'm 84 - I feel no hunger
To seek within the past refuge
With one proviso and it's huge:
You were there. Present content
In fact's a fraud and though I try
As best I can to just get by
And not to think my life is spent
It would be hopeless, save for the thought
Of all the joy your love has brought -
So great that joy that it survives
And hugely comforts many lives
And so my will to live revives.