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.
Eat me if you’re hungry
Burn me if you’re cold
Sleep on me if you’re tired...
These autumn days I’m chuffed inside
No chat about the ‘dying year’
Just how glad I am I’m here...