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.
The tears I’d gladly pay
To hear you play once more!
- I shed them anyway...
They go, in sun and wind, past standing cars
I watch their backs whom I love so
Smart and striding upright and purposeful...
