PAST TIMES

PAST TIMES

Memories of youth I might one day forget
But now they’re back, please, not quite yet
Their fading for good could make me upset
So just give me a little more time with these
Let me remember and perhaps smile, please

So many, yet most now appear quite bland
Losing touch is sadly, so easy to understand
They may be living nearby or in Samarkand
Friends, their names that I now can’t recall
It’s a shame, as I have lost track of them all

They are just mostly insignificant scenarios
But adulthood brought so many to a close
It’s all about moving on with life, I suppose
Yet little instances remain in my mind’s eye
Some make me smile, others make me cry

Yet if recounted, I’d soon give my age away
Listening to Radio Luxembourg at end of day
And hear ‘It took a hundred pounds of clay’
I remember, the Sixties had only just dawned
With many new artists and songs it spawned

For the few, an exciting time being a teenager
Yet with several mixed experiences, I’d wager
Whether still and unsure, or even a rampager
But we all have our memories of a past youth
We shall decide what is fake and what is truth