Wednesday, April 8, 2009


How often I have wanted

To drift back through the years,

Searching for the “happy times”,

You know, the ones without pain and

The unquenchable thirst for…….?

Without even a hangover, or

One that would not be remembered.

There would be no back pain, nor

The memories of knee replacements.

The hearing would be better and

The eyes clear, covered only with

The “cool” aviator wrap rounds.

Hair was slick then, the sideburns

Giving way to a chin not marred by

Scruffy growth or poor judgment.

The music was slow, time stood still,

Summers never seemed to end

Nor did our innocence, or dreams.

Who knew the word “nostalgia”, or

Could envision using it in a sentence?

Days seem to pass by now, crowding

More memories into smaller books.

The pages are worn, some marred by

Sadness, loneliness and, yes, even death.

The richness of life Is there, chronicled

In a weathered face now lined and scarred.

The eyes still twinkle, though less often,

And the stomach protruding just a bit

Over blue jeans not in need of a belt.

Yet, this is the morning of a new day,

Without need of drifting nor looking back.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, and it seems to happen almost overnight. Nice work!