Memory hurts – our hearts are stung
But sometimes I think the pain is for
Not a particular place but more
A special time – when we were young
For freer days when we knew hope
And what we felt we had was – scope.
Even the Beatles are passé now
And memory of Sinatra fades
On flower power they’ve pulled the shades...
I miss you love at evening time
On a day of endless rain
Out on your garden I gaze again...
