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.
Time scowls, weather frowns,
Nevertheless I hold your hand.
Though we were in different towns...
On my bonce to the right of the crown
A hallowed patch on my thatch I trow
‘Tis where your snazzy lips came down...
