The wind in your hair,
Sand in your eyes and under your feet,
As we raced towards golden shorelines,
In a parody of yesteryear,
Just like how it used to be,
To a time so pure, so carefree, so alive.
Before times changed and Moon aged,
Before technology and it's invasion,
When corduroy pants danced in the breezes,
With polka-dotted dresses,
Where laughter formed part of the music,
That sang our ears to sleep nightly.
How did we not look into the future,
And saw all the changes sweeping in,
Like thunder tides so deep and heavy,
Sweeping away all the
Golden good times,
Casting a cold gray world overhead.
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar
No comments:
Post a Comment