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.
This the train then, this the seat
Which will carry, which will bear
A tired, loving, longing Pete...
With Allie singing round the place
Gracing the stairs as I say my prayers
Letting the sun start from her face...
