The world we grew up in was so very different
(Simpler ways and quieter times);
Brown socks covering our legs, held by garters,
Variety stores selling for nickels and dimes.
We went to the afternoon matinee for a quarter
(That was an awful high price to pay),
Saw decent movies that saved us our innocence;
None of the violence and perversions of today.
Making our toys out of cans and card boxes,
They lasted long enough - 'til we were tired.
We listened to books (read by our parents),
The radio, family gathering round the fire.
Loving our Grandparents 'til life was over,
Never exchanged for a new set of grands,
Listening to stories and lessons from their lives;
We'd like to do that over again.
I like the conveniences we have now-a-days;
The phone, car, and all the electronic things.
But, why do I wish I could just spend an afternoon
Out on the farm, in the oak tree swing?
What pulls us back to the memories of childhood?
I watched my grandmother get that way!
Still, it was pleasant and it's buried, forever,
Deep in the heart of any sunny day!
Someday, you might drive back to your home town.
But, it certainly won't be the same as before.
Time marches ON and we cannot go backward,
Even when we long for those faces once more.
© 2004 by Joan Clifton Costner