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.
What are the golds of autumn day
But copper coins while I’m away?
The leaves that wreath – all yellow and green...
Summer’s hiding over there –
Behind the hill, but in your eyes
I see the summer’s dreamy skies...
