How has it been, these forty years?
A long time since swaggering of youth
And your magic eyes, smiling in a crowd.
We fell like all the others of our time
And our places there were taken
By the newcomers.
And forty years where have they gone?
Five, fighting for a home
Twenty, raising kids
Ten, paying off the debts
And five now on our own.
Forty seems like nothing
Started by that glance
Yet I wish it was a record,
That we could play again,
Again those tracks etched of our lives,
And never reach the end.
Bravo for this piece. Bravo for forty years. Bravo for you.
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Thank you saving shards! It hasn’t been a bed of roses, but is anything? Colour, perfume and thorns is what most of us get, I think! Thanks for taking the time to comment.
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That’s lovely, Patrick.
Belated congratulations on your anniversary.
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Thanks Phots, although it is very belated as I wrote this four years ago. Should now read 44 years! Thanks for visiting…
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